


Deadpool/Reader Oneshots

by Jessers09



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, My First Smut, maybe more later - Freeform, mentions of the avengers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:45:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessers09/pseuds/Jessers09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool/Reader one shots because there aren't enough on this site and I can't be the only one crazy about the Merc! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kaleidoscope

  


The stuttery squeak of a window being opened woke you from a light sleep. The apartment building you occupied was ancient and run down, but rent was cheap. The windows and sills harbored who knew how many layers of paint, making them difficult to open on a good day, impossible if the humidity levels were high enough.

The clock read 2:34 am. You didn't remembering falling asleep on the couch but apparently you had. The TV was still on, showing what seemed to be a large tornado with, what was that inside? Sharks? Yup, you'd seen this one before. Lame horror movie marathons were never a disappointment for you.

The soft thud of boots against plastic drew your attention back to the spare bedroom. You got off the couch, stretched with a satisfied groan, then made your way to the noises. You ran a hand quickly through your hair hoping the 'bed head' wasn't too bad even though you knew your guest would be looking far worst regardless of your current state.

You opened the door, greeted by the over powering odor of blood and the faint scent of Mexican food.

"Hey, sweetums. Ya miss me?"

You smiled at the red and black spandex clad figure that had slumped into the plastic desk chair you kept near the window.

"Always do, Wade. Though I wish all of you could have made it tonight."

He laughed, a wet sound that didn't bode well for the condition of his lungs. "You know me. I hate to disappoint, but I did the best I could. You should see the other guys though. They won't be growing back the parts they lost! One guy, oh man, it was awesome. Never had a guy kill himself before I could give him a turn on the end of my blade. He went from shooting at me to shooting himself right through the eye. Craziest damn thing I've ever seen."

You laughed. You couldn't help it. Someone killing themselves to avoid an even more brutal death wasn't funny, but the way Deadpool told the story, like an animated child, made the most serious circumstances seem hilarious.

You closed the distance between the two of you, bare feet sticking to the tarp that covered the floor. The Merc was always showing up with various grievous wounds and you'd had enough late night, blood stained floor scrubbing, which is what led to your whole spare bedroom essentially becoming his first aid room.

You surveyed the chattering man, knowing you really didn't have to do a whole lot, his healing factor would take care of most of it with little effort. He had one arm wrapped around his torso, keep his innards from spilling onto your floor by the looks of the gaping wound across his abdomen. Gun shot wounds littered the chest of his suit, but you knew those would already be healed.

All in all tonight didn't seem too bad, until he held up his left arm. It stopped at the wrist. "Look, mom, no hands!" He exclaimed.

You snorted as he produced a disembodied hand from behind this belt. Taking it like it was no big deal, you held it firmly against his wrist so it would reattach itself. _'Always easier to reattach than to regrow_ ' he would say.

You weren't ashamed to admit you'd fainted the first time you'd seen him in this condition, but after nearly a year of exposure to the insanity that was Deadpool,  carnage no longer effected you the same way.

"You staying in town a while?" You asked, interrupting a monologue about blood spatter on brick, hoping the answer would be a yes but knowing it wouldn't be.

He was studying your small hands, so pale against his suit sleeve. Marveling at your calm demeanor even though your nimble fingers were covered with his blood.

He shrugged non-committally. "Until another job comes along."

That had been the answer you were expecting but it was still disappointing. You'd fallen head over heels for the hitman and it wasn't easy.

You thought back to the first time you'd met the Merc with a Mouth. You'd only been working as Tony Stark's personal assistant for a little over a week. You were in the lab, having just brought Stark and Dr. Banner their lunch, when the red and black stranger was thrown violently through the plate glass wall of the lab by one of Stark Industries guard bots.

He'd looked up at you, grin wide behind the mask, completely ignoring the shards of glass that peppered his body like porcupine quills, and commented how wonderful your ass looked from that angle.

From that day on, much to Tony's chagrin, Deadpool was constantly breaking into The Tower to see you, even if it was only for ten minutes before one of the Avengers tossed him out. Eventually, realizing he wasn't hurting anything and that you actually enjoyed the Merc's company, even if they couldn't figure out why, they left the two of you alone. Content to let Jarvis monitor the interactions, 'just in case'.

He was wiggling the fingers on his newly healed hand. "Good as new. Thanks, doc." Which then lead to a one sided discussion about Doc Brown and the kind of kick-ass money he could make as a killer for hire if he had a time machine.

Replying with nods, and vague 'mm-hmms' you snatched a small but sharp knife out of his boot and moved to cut away his shirt.

"Woah, not until at least the third date. What kind of girl do you take me for?" The Merc's voice had gone awkwardly high pitched and he was fanning himself with a hand.

You snickered, but wouldn't be detered. "You know we gotta get this off before it heals into the wound or its gonna be a bitch later."

If his torn suit top healed into the deep tear in his stomach he'd be left with only two options, either let the healing flesh absorb it and then break it down internally - which would make his healing process slow considerably - or cut the pieces out after the initial healing and be left with dozen of smaller cuts to heal. Either choice was far more painful than just removing the clothing from the equation early on.

The white eyes of his mask narrowed, you'd stopped even wondering how that was possible, as he weighed his options.

You knew he hated his cancer ridden skin. He'd told you all about it, but in all the time you'd known him all you'd seen was his chin, because he had to eat somehow, and his hands.

Whenever you tried to get his mask off the answer was the same 'Trust me, you don't wanna see this', but you wanted to do way more than see. (Touch. Lick. Bite. All of the above sounded good...)

What little you had seen hadn't bothered you in the slightest. You found them oddly fascinating. If anything, they were just part of the whole crazy package. But no one hated Deadpool more than Deadpool.

"It's fine. It'll work itself out. No need to make you lose your dinner. And I can tell I woke you up, wouldn't want you having more nightmares after I left because of this." He was babbling more than usual, which meant he was nervous and if you weren't so annoyed at his stupidity you'd have found it adorable.

"I just reattached your fucking hand, some scars aren't going to be what my nightmares are about and you know damn well it will hurt less to do it my way."

"I don't see why you care. The pain is constant anyway, what's a little more?" He sounded bitter. You knew he didn't think himself worthy of such consideration and it broke your heart.

"I'm your friend. Why wouldn't I care?" You hoped the sincerity was evident in your tone.

The fact that having a friend whom was there just because they cared, not because you were a means to an end, was such a foreign concept to the Merc that he immediately dismissed it made you want to cry. Well, you were gonna show him, even if you had to do it by unconventional means.

He was uncharacteristically silent, mulling over what you'd said. Trying to change the topic he asked, "Why haven't you moved into the tower yet? I'm sure Stark has asked."

You paused a moment, wondering how to answer. Tony had asked, more than once, practically every damn time he saw you, especially on those rare occasions he ended up at your apartment. The penthouse suit he offered was larger and far nicer than the hole in the wall you called home, and you wouldn't even have to pay him rent, which was temping. There was only one reason keeping you in the apartment.

"Who's gonna take care of your crazy ass in the middle of the night if I'm living with the Avengers? You're not gonna climb 36 stories with only one arm to get in my window."

He was silent again, obviously not expecting that answer, so you seized the opportunity. Roughly, without warning, you pushed his head back and slid the knife into the neckline of his shirt, slicing down quickly, in one smooth motion before he had time to argue.

He grumbled something that sounded like 'fucking rude' but you ignored him. Peeling spandex off of blood soaked skin was about as easy as it sounded, but you finally managed, inch by painstaking inch.

Tossing the ruined fabric aside, you then knelt and pulled off his bloodied boots before ordering "Shower."

He stalked off, head down, arms crossed over his bare and bloodied chest, pouting and muttering to himself. The way he could go from terrifying and deadly to whiney toddler in no time flat was truly impressive.

You stood stealthily by the bathroom door, waiting to hear the involuntary hiss he let out when the hot water touched his freshly healed wounds. Knowing he was in the shower and wouldn't see you, you krept in, grabbed the remnants of his disgusting suit, and left.

Maybe you were being cruel. You knew you shouldn't force him to do something that made him uncomfortable but he had to trust someone. The loneliness was eating away at him, that much was obvious and dammit, you were going to make sure that someone was you, even if you had to stoop so low as to steal his clothes.

You leaned against the kitchen top bar, with an unobstructed view of the bathroom door. You knew the second Deadpool realized his suit was gone because of a loud growl.

"Okay, kid, but don't say I didn't warn you." He threw the door open angrily, hard enough that it hit the wall behind, chipping paint.

He was pissed and _really fucking hot_.

You stood, gaping, closer than you realized having taken a few steps forward without meaning to. He wore only a towel, slung low across his waist, showcasing a ridiculous set of washboard abs that you could have done your laundry on. Hands haughtily on his hips, feigning confidence that he didn't feel, left his chest open for viewing. If you'd thought the abs were something the pecs were phenomenal!

You willingly inched closer, needing so badly to touch him. Upon closer inspection you could see all the criss crossing scars, some minute, some large and red, probably painful, faintly shifting as cells died and were replaced with fresh tissue, like a kaleidoscope of flesh. The scars themselves weren't necessarily beautiful, but the process was.

You ran your fingertips gently over one of the larger scars, traversing from his collar bone to just above the navel. The skin was rough and puckered and you had an overwhelming urge to run your tongue along it, but refrained.

The Merc had tensed, going completely still the moment your skin had touched his, air of confidence evaporated.

"It's not fucking polite to stare." He snapped, holding on to his anger to keep from feeling anything else.

You looked up from his chest, feeling your cheeks redden with embarrassment, to meet eyes that were a chocolatey brown. You'd never seen his eyes before. You smiled.

"I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not."

Full, dry lips twisted into a sneer. "I should have figured you'd be like all the rest. Just wanted a peek of the freak show? I get it. At least you haven't vomited or run away screaming. I guess that's something. If you give me back my goddamn clothes I'll be leaving."

He was talking entirely too much so you did the only thing you could think of to shut him up. Hands still on his chest you reached up on tip toes, covering his mouth with your own.

If you thought he'd gone still before, he might as well have been dancing compared to how rigid his body had gone now. The regular rise and fall of his chest had stopped, breath held.

He wasn't moving, wasn't breathing, wasn't kissing you back.

Strong hands wrapped around your small biceps, pushing you back just as you flicked your tongue along a scar crossing his bottom lip.

"What are you doing?" His voice was quiet, strained. If you kept this up he wasn't going to be able to resist much longer, which is what you were counting on.

"Well, I _was_  kissing you. But now..." Your eyes followed a slow path down his body, taking your time, "now I'm thinking I should have taken the towel too." 

He inhaled sharply. The heat in his eyes were starting to match your own. That one, gentle kiss left him half erect, he knew he was in trouble.

"You're sure?" He asked quietly, almost afraid of your answer.

You nodded, thinking about how the Avengers were going to react to this news once they found out. Cap and Thor would be non judgemental as usual, Hawkeye would tease you mercilessly, Black Widow and Bruce Banner wouldn't say much at all, but Tony was going to lose his shit.

Wade's hands moved cautiously from your arms to your hips, dragging you closer, bending to cover your smile with a kiss.

' _So worth Stark's meltdown_ ' you thought as Wade's tongue sparred with your own.

His large hands had moved to knead your ass, pulling you even closer so that the entire line of your bodies were touching. Then the towel between you dropped silently to the floor and your brain was far beyond coherent thought.


	2. Famous Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avengers movie night leads to a date with Deadpool. What's the worst that could happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lighter chapter, not all angsty. Thanks for reading :) 
> 
> Xo

It was movie night at the Avengers tower. You were curled up on the sofa with your two favorite spies, grabbing handfuls of popcorn from the bowl in Clint's lap while trying your best not to cry during the opening sequence of UP. It was Disney/Pixar night, as per Natasha's request, which surprised everyone. 

You made it through dry eyed, but just barely, due to concentrating on anything but the large TV screen. You relaxed, now ready to pay attention, when Jarvis addressed Tony. 

"There seems to be an intruder on the ground level, sir. I'm afraid three security guards are already unconscious."

The six of you rose immediately, ready for action, when Tony asked his AI for the 'code'. Every incident category had a matching color code so the lot of you could respond accordingly. 

"Code red and black, sir." Was that annoyance in his disembodied voice? 

You'd only been part of the team for a few months and had yet to encounter that color combination. You looked around the room expectantly. Everyone had tensed but no one was making a move. 

"Jarvis, please see that Nurse Holloway tends to the guards." With that Tony sat back down, even if he didn't look pleased about it. 

The rest of the team followed. What the hell was going on? Someone had taken out Stark's security and then was allowed to roam the tower? 

"Shouldn't we be suiting up or something?" You looked at each member in turn, waiting for an answer. 

Cap sighed, pinching the bridge of his noise like he had a headache. Clint and Natasha gave you matching shrugs. Bruce had a tight, pained expression on his normally placid face. Thor, who wasn't at the tower nearly as often as the others, due to his dual residency in Asgard, looked just as confused as you felt. 

It was finally Tony that answered, his distain obvious. "He'll find us soon enough." 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? 

As if in answer to your question an imposing figure clad in red and black spandex - that explain the code - and armed to the teeth with an obsurd amount of weaponry strode into the entertainment room like he owned the place. 

"If you guys keep this up I'm going to start taking it personally. I'm practically part of the team now, but I still don't get invited to movie night. It hurts." He pouted, head down, hand clutching at his chest. 

Tony paused the movie, it couldn't be heard over the volume of your visitor anyway. "You're not part of the team, Deadpool."

You knew the man in passing, having seen him before at SHIELD headquarters when you were a new recruit, but never had to work a mission with him. After hearing the obsurd rumors circulating about him you'd read his file and were surprised to find out they weren't just rumors. He was apparently a bat shit crazy former mercenary who worked the occasional odd job for SHIELD when they required his particular skill set.

"Breaks my heart to hear you say that, Tin Man." He looked away from Tony, eyes settling on you. A wide grin broke out on his face, evident even behind the mask. 

"Well, helloooo." He flopped down on the couch beside you, causing you to scramble half into Clint's lap to avoid being flattened by the heavily muscled mercenary. "You must be the newest addition to our team." 

"Leave her be, Wilson." Steve warned. 

He might as well not have spoken because Deadpool kept talking. "I can't believe no one is going to introduce us." He threw an arm casually around your shoulders. "I'm Deadpool, the Merc with a mouth - and I'm so very good with that mouth - but you can call me Wade."

Wow, really? Was that some sort of pick up line? "I know who you are." You paused, then broke down. How could he possible give you 'puppy dog eyes' with a mask on?! "I'm (y/n)." 

"Nice to meet you, (y/n). The pleasure will be all yours. Trust me." He winked exaggeratedly.

This guy was something else and no one was helping you out. You wondered if this was this some kind of rookie hazing. 

His arm tightened and he pulled you closer, away from Clint, to settle into the larger body. He smelled and not in a good way. Blood, sweat and tacos... That was quite the combination. 

"No, no, no." He mumbled seemingly to himself, which everyone else ignored. "That doesn't happen until the third date... I know, right?... That's a good idea, I'll ask." He smiled at you again. "So, would you consider cuddling and watching a movie a date?" 

"Yeah, I guess so." You answered before realizing it was the wrong answer. 

"Perfect." The Merc purred. "Tomorrow we can go out for tacos. You like Mexican food, right? Of course you do. Who doesn't? Well, you'd better or this isn't going to work and I have it all planned out so it has to. Then the next day, which will be our third date, you can come over my place. I'll give you a guided tour of the bedroom." He added the last part in a low, throaty growl which shouldn't have been sexy but was ridiculously so. 

"Jesus, Wade." Clint swore. "Lay off, will ya?" He threw a handful of popcorn at the Merc who tried to catch it in his mouth even though he was wearing a mask. You couldn't help but laugh as the pieces pinged off the spandex and rained down on the couch. 

"You're just jealous, Hawkguy." Deadpool muttered, looking disappointed at not catching any popcorn. "I saved his life once, ya know. Even though he wasn't handing out full sized candy bars like he promised. 'Fun size' my ass. What's so fun about 'em? Honestly, shoulda just let them kill him."

You had no idea what saving lives had to do with candy bars... 

The archer signed exasperatedly. "He did." He answered your unspoken question, then looked at the other man. "And really, still about the candy? That was months ago!" 

"Can you two seriously shut up? We're trying to watch a movie." Natasha's voice was calm and terrifying. Clint froze and even Deadpool quieted. 

"So, about the date." He leaned forward, whispering in your ear. 

A date with a crazy ass mercenary? Well, the way he filled out that super suit was pretty impressive. "You're gonna have to shower first, you smell like sweaty tacos." 

Clint snickered. 

Deadpool was quick to reply. "We should probably shower together, save water and all that. I'm big on saving the environment. Mother Nature's hero right here. Call me Captain Planet! Wait, I think that's taken..." 

How he kept a straight face saying these things you didn't know. 

"Mmm... We'll see." 

He paused, actually going quiet, before talking to himself once again. "Shut up, I know it's been a while... Puh-leeze, why wouldn't she want this?... Yeah, well fuck you too..."

You looked up from the mumbling Merc to see the entire room staring at you, eyes wide in shock. 

Shit, what had you just agreed to? 

Oh, well. What's the worst that could happen?


	3. Have Yourself a Sexy Little Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and the Merc's first Christmas together complete with some angst and sexy times ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought I'd write a little Christmas themed piece. (sorry if Christmas isn't your thing!) 
> 
> This is my first attempt with smut, never written any before so I have to ease into it (pun intended :P ha.) So let me know what you think! 
> 
> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> Xo

You'd been going on and on all month about how Christmas was such a magical time of year. It was by far your favorite holiday, which was obvious to anyone who knew you.

You'd even been making him listen to the damn, sugary sweet Christmas music every fucking day since Thanksgiving and he hated it, but he loved you, so he didn't complain... too much.

He knew you didn't blame him for what you lovingly referred to as his 'grinchy attitude'. You knew all about his shitty childhood - not a whole lot of great Christmas memories there - but you hoped he could forget the past and make new memories with you.

This was your first Christmas together and, despite his misgivings, he was determined not to ruin it. He ruined a lot of things, even if he didn't mean to, so his hopes weren't too high, but he was trying dammit and that had to mean something, right? Which was why he was currently sitting beside you on the couch, watching The Christmas Story.

Well, the holiday might have sucked, but he had to admit the movie was pretty good.

"Thanks for today, Wade. It was perfect." Your focus shifted from the TV to your lover's red and black masked face.

You'd been dating for nearly 8 months now, were practically living together as Deadpool's apartment wasn't the nicest in the city and he much preferred yours, but you still hadn't seen him without the mask.

You knew why. He'd told you about Weapon X, no doubt leaving a lot of detail out to spare you the horror, but you got the gist of the experiments and what they'd done to him. After a few months you had managed to get him in normal clothes while you lounged around at home, bearing his scarred arms and legs. Even had gotten him to relax far enough to be - almost - naked during sex. But so far you'd had no luck getting the mask off any further than his nose.

You watched the scars on his chin shift beneath the skin, constantly but subtly changing shape as his healing factor worked relentlessly against the cancer. They didn't bother you, not one bit, they were part of him like anything else, and you wouldn't change it for the world, except to spare him the never ending pain.

If only he'd believe you when you told him as much.

He smiled, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewing to avoid having to participate in the 'mushy' conversation. God, he hated _feelings_.

"I think we should go outside and I'll stick my tongue to a pole like that and see if it really happens. It will be like an episode of Myth Busters." He stood abruptly, effectively changing the topic and spilling the bowl of popcorn all over the carpet. "For science!" He shouted.

You laughed, yanking on the hem of his shirt to pull him back down beside you. "No 'science' tonight, besides you said you had another present for me. Even though you already spoil me like crazy."

There was a huge pile of presents beneath the tree, now unwrapped and ready to be put away, but that could wait until tomorrow.

You leaned up, kissing an especially enflamed scar that skittered along his jawline. He no longer flinched away, but his body still tensed momentarily before relaxing into your touch.

He sighed. He'd really hoped you would forget about him mentioning another gift because as the day faded into night so had his courage faded.

He shifted uneasily on the couch. Ripping his tongue off a frozen metal pole sounded so much more fun than what he'd had planned for this evening, and he was hoping, though doubting, it would end in hot sex so that was really saying something.

"But...science?" He argued weakly. You snorted. He was obviously avoiding something. You let him get away with avoiding a lot of things because they were so difficult for him and you didn't want to be the kind of girlfriend to pressure, but this time you had no idea what he'd even been planning, so he wasn't getting off that easy.

"We can 'science' tomorrow if you really want to." You got up onto your knees, wrapping you arms around his broad shoulders and leaned into him, tongue flicking along his ear, making him shiver. "But tonight we're going to experiment indoors."

You kissed a trail along his chin and down his throat, following another scar that dipped beneath the collar of his t-shirt. He moaned appreciatively, leaning his head back against the couch to give your better access. You crawled onto his lap, knee on either side of his hips, straddling him as you pressed your lips against his. Your lips parted as his tongue sought entrance, deepening the kiss. Strong fingers dug into your hips, pulling you closer, grinding you against his partial erection.

He whined when you pulled away, a smirk painted on your swollen, red lips. "Was this my other gift?" You asked innocently, reaching a hand between your bodies to grasp his clothed cock.

"Not what I had planned but go ahead and unwrap it, sweetheart." His voice was hoarse with desire.

"Nope. Not until I get my last present." Your eyes twinkled micheviously as you hopped off his lap, backing up until you sat on the coffee table, feet crunching forgotten popcorn.

He pouted. A six foot, two hundred pound wall of solid muscle that managed to pull off pouting like a child. You couldn't help but laugh. He was adorable.

His large arms crossed over his chest. "Blackmailing your boyfriend is just cruel. I'm telling Santa and we'll just see how many presents you get next year."

He was stalling and not even doing it well. Your little display of affection had left his brain even more muddled than usual. He couldn't even think of a way out. He was going to have to go through with his original plan and he was terrified.

You deserved it though, with all the bullshit you put up with living with a insane ex-mercenary. He came with a lot of baggage, way more than a normal man, but you had taken it all in stride, dealing with his issues and insecurities without ever making him feel like less of a human being for it. So many people dismissed him right away, never bothering to look beneath the sarcastic exterior to really see the man within. But you had, and still, for reasons he couldn't even begin to understand, hadn't run away screaming.

You deserved so much, way more than he could give you, but at least he could give you this, even if it didn't begin to repay you for all the patience and kindness you'd shown him.

Fuck, when the hell had he become the lead actress in a shitty chick flick?

He hadn't meant to speak out loud, but apparently had, because you answered.

"Aw, honey, you're all man to me." You giggled. "Even if your legs look better in a dress than mine!"

Hell, you hadn't even batted an eye the first time you'd seen him wearing his sexy little French maid getup. How many guys could expect that from their women? You were way to good for him. Dammit, why did he have to get all mushy? He hated this.

You were starting to frown, concern lining your delicate features. "What's wrong, Wade?" You rested a hand atop his knee, squeezing gently.

He looked down at your hand, so pale and smooth, then back up to your face, bright eyes and pink cheeks. You were beautiful. You were perfect. And he was a fucking monster.

He sighed, knowing you wouldn't like where his train of thought had led. You were always chastising him for his self depreciating humor. What did you see in him anyway?

"You're kind and caring and sexy and my God, that ass..." You were smiling but your eyes still showed worry.

Shit, he just have said that part out loud again. He really had to stop doing that.

"Seriously, Wade, whatever it is you don't have to do it. I've already got everything I want." You had moved back to the couch, nestling in close, head resting warmly against his shoulder.

That wasn't true. There was one thing you always wanted but were too fucking kind to push. He had to do this. It was now or never.

He stood abruptly, grasping tighly to that small thread of confidence he had left. Grimacing as you fell into the arm of the couch, surprised by the sudden vacancy beside you. Oops.

He ran a bare hand against the back of his masked head. "I'llberightback." Great, he sounded as nervous as he felt.

He disappeared into the bedroom slamming the door behind him, leaving you in stunned silence. What the hell was he up to? This was out of character, even for the Merc!

The sound of rustling was followed by a soft thump and a mumbled "fuck me" before the door once again cracked open.

"Okay, close your eyes." He voice was quiet, timid even. Your worry grew but you listened, obeying the command.

Soft footfalls sounded along the bare wood floor as he made his way toward you, wearing nothing but the silly elf boxers you'd picked out for him weeks ago. He'd left his mask in the bedroom along with the rest of his clothes.

Maybe Christmas wasn't the best day to do this? He really didn't want to be dumped on Christmas. But then again, he already hated the holiday so what the hell? Why not add another reason to the list?

Sure, you'd seen his scarred body often enough, and even though it didn't seem to bother you he couldn't - wouldn't - believe that you actually _liked_  it and as far as he was concerned the face was way more horrifying than the rest of him.

He eased himself onto the couch, as far away from you as possible, speaking in a coarse whisper. "Okay, open your eyes."

Without hesitation your eyes opened and you froze. His mask! Where was his mask? Your hand flew to cover your gaping mouth, as though it could hide your surprise, as you stared unabashedly.

His head was completely hairless, which you'd already guessed judging by the rest of his body. Shifting scars and small lumps littered his skin, covering every inch. The dry, chapped lips you knew intimately were pinched and tense.

He finally looked up at you showing his eyes for the first time, chocolate brown eyes that were full of pain and maybe just the slightest glimpse of hope.

He was beautiful.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Shouldn't have just sprung it on you like this. Should've prepared you for it. Maybe made sure you had an empty stomach or something. Sorry I didn't think."

He was talking too fast, wringing his hands nervously, fidgeting in his seat, trying to back away even further but the couch arm wouldn't allow him.

"Thank you." You practically squeaked, eyes filling with joyful tears. This was the best possible gift he could have given you, complete trust.

He frowned and you could actually see the rough skin in the corner of his eyes crinkle. It made you smile. You could actually see his eyes!

"I love you, Wade Wilson." You smiled before pouncing, closing the short distance between the two of you, crushing your mouth against his, hands skimming his bald head, memorizing every inch.

He pulled you into his lap, straddling him like you had been earlier, hands slipping beneath your shirt, caressing the soft skin of your back.

You pulled away slightly, leaning back just far enough to pepper his face with small kisses, hairless eyebrows, eyes, nose, cheek bones.

He couldn't help but laugh, tension fading from his body. "You're weird."

He would never in a million years would heave expected such a reaction. He certainly didn't _deserve_  such a reaction, but he'd be dammed if he wasn't going to enjoy it as long as possible and hope you never came to your senses.

You smiled against his mouth. "You don't seem to mind." You noted the growing erection that rested between your thighs.

You crawled off his lap, settling between his legs on your knees. "I can't top your gift to me, but I'll do my best."

You winked, his eyes going wide as you tugged open his elf boxers, releasing straining dick. You licked slowly from the base upward, swirling your tongue around the tip, keeping your eyes locked on his. His maskless face adding to the intimacy.

You moved forward, taking his considerable length into your mouth, swallowing it to the hilt. He threw his head back, issuing a loud moan that spurred you on, fingers weaving into your hair.

You pulled back, then swallowed him again, finding a steady rhythm that quickly had the man writhing beneath you.

"Fuck, you feel so good." He muttered, keeping up a constant chatter like he normally did. "Fuck, I would have taken the mask off sooner if I'd know - fuck, yes!"

You'd spred his legs slightly, reach under your chin to caress his balls. You smiled against cock, barely skimming the scarred surface with your teeth.

"That's it." The Merc hissed. "That mouth of yours is fucking amazing. Oh, fuck. If you don't stop soon I'm gonna come." With that declaration you sucked harder, until he was groaning your name like a prayer.

Hands clenched in your hair, holding your head in place as he came with a loud moan, spilling his seed into your throat.

You swallowed it down, slowly pulling your mouth away, licking his cock clean with your tongue. "Merry Christmas."

You grinned from between his knees. He laughed, yanking you roughly back into his lap, healing factor leaving his dick rock hard.

Maybe, he thought, Christmas wasn't such a bad day after all.


	4. There Was That One Time...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade in naughty nurse costume... Injured Petey... Future threesome? Mayyyybe... ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always appreciated :)

Juggling four large pizza boxes and a twelve pack of beer while trying to open the door to your apartment was an acquired skill, but you'd had plenty of practice the last few months and you knew your boyfriend would have left it unlocked for you. Fumbling for keys during your balancing act would have most likely ended up with a whole different outcome. Honestly, who in their right mind was going to break into Deadpool's apartment anyway? His katanas were a much better deterrent than any lock.

You knew better than to leave work without grabbing dinner on your way home. After six nights in a row of Mexican cuisine you'd vehemently refused a seventh and had stopped for pizza instead, knowing a meat lovers rather than tacos would only be met with mild complaint.

You were fairly certain your boyfriend's love of take home food was the only reason half the restaurants on your block were turning a profit. It had been embarrassing at first when the workers had learned your name, now, when you showed up and they already knew your order it just made things easier.

You did often wonder what they must think. With three large meat lovers for your boyfriend - how many wounds he needed to heal always determined how much he ate, and dating a regenerating mercenary with a death wish, you always guessed high - and a fourth, slightly less greasy version for yourself they must have thought you lived in a college frat house!

You let yourself into your shared apartment with ease, balancing boxes like your day job was as part of a circus act - and being an ER nurse sometimes it felt like a circus, especially that one time a red and black masked, gun toting nut job had kidnapped you from the hospital to take care of his injured friend... But that had all worked out fine in end! And honestly, how many other couples had such an exciting story about how you first met?

Maybe you were as crazy as he was...

"Honey, I'm home!" You called out into the seemingly empty apartment.

Where was he? The TV was on in the living room so he couldn't haven't gone far. Or maybe he had, you could never really be quite sure, he was a hard person to predict. Living with the mercenary wasn't perfect, but it sure as hell wasn't boring either.

Before you could start to worry, aforementioned nut job emerged from the living room, this time not wearing red and black, but white, and not much of it at that. He was wearing a stereotypical naughty nurse costume and nothing else.

Pizza forgotten,  you hurried to your lover, arms snaking around his neck as you pulled him in close for a kiss.

Dating a man who looked better in dresses than you, oddly enough, didn't bother you in the slightest. You were just thankful he finally felt comfortable enough around you to leave his glorious body, scars and all, on display like it was.

"If you're the naughty nurse does that mean I get to be Dr. Sexy this time?" You purred, always up for a little role play after a stressful day at work.

Wade picked you up easily, legs around his waist, to carry you into the living room he had just exited. "Definitely! And this time we have a real life patient." His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas day.

"I could probably use a doctor." A familiar voice sounded from the couch.

Shit. You turned, still attached to your 'nurse' to see Spider-Man's unmasked face looking back at you, wearing a michevious smirk even though he was in obvious pain.

It wasn't the worst thing Peter had heard you and Deadpool discussing, but he blushed anyway.

"You've done something different with your suit. I can't quite put my finger on it... " You looked him over in mock confusion, expertly changing the subject as you crawled off your naughty merc.

He was wearing his typical red and blue Spidey suit bottoms but the shirt was gone, replaced with multitudes of gauze wrapped all around his chest. The mask sat on the arm of the couch, looking even more alien without a face to give it shape.

This wasn't the first time you'd seen the elusive Spider-Man without his mask. He'd been good friends with Deadpool long before you came onto the scene, but not long after saving his life you'd started dating the Merc, therefore spending a lot of time with the both of them. He'd eventually come to trust you enough with his secret identity.

"So glad you noticed." Peter moved his hand in a grand sweeping motion, encompassing his outfit. "It's all the rage this season. Part of my 'Invalid Hero' collection."

You laughed, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

His normally fair skinned, handsome face was a patchwork of bruises, some old, some new. His bottom lip was split but no longer bleeding and a long gash over his eye was held shut with u butterfly bandages. He'd obviously taken one hell of a beating, which was going to be hard to explain away to those who didn't know his crime fighting alter ego.

"You look like shit." You were pitying but not terribly concerned. He might look like a lean, barely legal teen laying there without a mask but you'd see Spider-Man dealt much worse injury and bounce back with no lasting effects. You only worried when he was at a loss for sarcastic comebacks.

"Fear not, Petey! The rest of you may look like shit but that ass of yours is still amaaazzzzzingg." Wade sing-songed, winking at his friend.

The younger man snorted, then winced at the pain in his ribs. "I wondered why when you two first started dating but now I see the similarities. You're both a couple of sweet talking vanillas." He said sarcastically with an exaggerated eye roll for full effect.

"No need to be cranky just because, out of the three of us here, you're the one who looks worst in a dress." You ran a hand up Wade's well muscled thigh as proof of your statement.

He laughed loudly as Spidey's eyes rolled so dramatically they threatened to become lodged in his brain. "I don't know why I bother coming here to get abused like this. Especially now that there are two of you."

"We keep you fed, that's why. Speaking of, I brought pizza." You paused to peek under the gauze, making sure the wounds were properly cleaned before they were wrapped.

There looked to be long gashes across his chest, wide but not too deep. There didn't seem to be a need for stitches, which was good, because it wouldn't be an easy task with the width of the wounds. They were well cleaned, smelling if disinfectant, and well wrapped. Your boyfriend was a quick learner.

"Meat lovers?" Deadpool asked, skeptical, as he watched you double check his work. What he really wanted was tacos. Sex and tacos. A kinky threesome and tacos. Yup, that was it.

"Would you eat any other kind?" You didn't wait for an answer because you already knew it. "Veggie for me. Want a mix, sweetie?" You asked the young hero, knowing he ate much healthier than your Merc.

Peter nodded, thanking you. Wade, on the other hand, stuck his tongue out, looking thoroughly disgusted by the mere thought of healthy food while helping his patient into a sitting position. Sometimes you wondered which man was actually the younger of the two.

"We don't all have your ridiculous metabolism." You retorted. "If I ate half the shit food you do I'd be fat as a house."

Seriously, how Deadpool ate nothing but junk food with very little exercise in between yet maintained delicious six-pack abs you couldn't keep you hands off of had to be the eighth wonder of the world!

"Doesn't matter to me. You'd still be hot." He said matter-of-factly.

You damn near swooned. How could you not love a man like that? Sure, plenty of significant others would probably say that to avoid the consequences but how many would actually mean it?

Standing up on your tip toes you pulled him down by his stethoscope so you could reach his mouth with an appreciative kiss.

"Come on, guys. If you don't start including me I'm going start feeling like the third wheel." Spidey mock-whined, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

Reluctantly pulling away from your boyfriend, you smirked. You had an idea and you knew he would follow your lead. If the other wanted attention, he'd get it.

You sat to the right of the jealous hero, gently wrapping your arms around his slim waist. Deadpool sat to his left, his skirt riding dangerously high on his thighs as he crossed his legs and put an arm around the smaller man's shoulders.

You took a moment to appreciate the view. Wade's badly marred skin over tight muscle beside Peter's flawless complexion was a beautiful juxtaposition. A brief picture of them both naked beside you flashed through you mind, unexpected but not unappealing.

You leaned in close, placing a soft kiss on the hero's throat, tongue flicking against the smooth surface, salty taste of sweat slicked flesh making you lick again.

Peter's head fell back to give you better access as he issued a barely audible whimper.

One eyebrow arched in surprised, you looked to Wade who wore an equal expression of shock on his own face. Neither of you had expected your teasing to get this sort of response.

Taking the hint you peppered feathery kisses along his bruised jaw line, your eyes locked on Wade's all the while. His warm brown eyes were dark with desire and he was giving you that sexy smirk that caused heat to pool low in your stomach. Whenever you got that look wonderfully dirty things were about to happen.

He leaned close, nipping at the other man's ear lobe, voice a husky whisper. "Are you sure you're up for this, baby boy?"

One of his arms were wrapped around your shoulders, holding you tight to his chest. The other was laying across Wade's stomach, nimble fingers caressing a scar that ran just below the hem of his uniform.

"I... ugnh... " He stammered wordlessly, turning the darkest shade of red you'd ever seen on a human being.

"Oh, Dr. Sexy is so making a house call tonight!" The Merc jumped excitedly to his feet, heading directly to the bedroom closet, talking loudly to himself about how it must have been both his birthday and Christmas.

You barely managed to stifle a laugh. Wade was almost never this excited, except for that one time he ate tacos off your naked body. If you remembered correctly that _had_  actually been on Christmas.

Stashing that memory away for later,  you smiled at a still dazed Spider who was too damn cute when he was embarrassed, which, around the two of you, was fairly often. It was just too easy to tease the young man, you couldn't help yourself.

You leaned in to kiss his flaming red cheek, but he turned at the last minute, soft lips connecting with yours. Maybe he wasn't so innocent, as you'd originally thought. You smiled against his mouth, tongue coursing over his bottom lip, careful to avoid the split.

He pulled away, an even deeper shade of red than he had been originally if that were possible, muttering quiet, nervous apologies.

Too. Damn. Cute.

"I'm gonna go get you some food, sweetheart." You untangled yourself from the boy, adding coyly, with a wink, before leaving the room "you're gonna need the energy for later."

You went to the kitchen to divvy up the pizza while Deadpool searched for the costume you didn't have the heart to tell him you wouldn't wear in front of the easily embarrassed hero. Dr. Sexy was little more than lacey white lingerie and a lab coat. The color poor Spidey would turn if he saw that probably wasn't even named yet.

On second thought... Maybe you would put it on?

"How do you feel about handcuffs?" Wade called from the bedroom.

You smiled to yourself, loading sturdy paper plates high with food. He wasn't asking you. He already knew how you felt about them which is exactly why you kept a pair in the bedroom.

"Only on the bad guys, Wade." Peter called back with a nervous laugh.

He had joined you in the kitchen, looking suddenly awkward in your presence. At least his color back to normal.

His healing factor wasn't nearly as fast as his friend's but he was already feeling slightly better. Enough so that making you do all the domestic chores yourself, after a long shift at the hospital, made him feel guilty.

Before you could protest - you didn't mind taking care of your boys and he needed rest to heal, especially if your evening continued to follow it's current path - the front door burst inward, falling flat to the floor it's hinges no longer attached. In it's place stood a fully suited Iron Man.

Son of a bitch. Talk about a mood killer.

Instinctively you moved to the side, stepping in front of the unmasked Spider-Man, blocking him from view long enough for him to duck and turn away, using his super strength to ignore the pain and propel himself back to the living room where he'd left his mask.

Deadpool appeared suddenly, having added his own red and black mask to the nurse costume he still wore. In one hand was the white corset of Dr. Sexy and in the other was a katana.

Priorities.

Tony Stark strode into the apartment confidently, moving with the same familiar arrogance whether he was dressed as Iron Man or wearing one of his outrageously priced three piece suits. Behind him came a fully alert, ready to battle Captain America and last, but not least, a bored looking Hawkeye.

"Now it's a party!" Deadpool whooped, grin visible through the mask. "Not sure I'll have enough for everyone." He raised the lingerie in question. "But we can always get more! I bet you're about my size, huh Cap? I'll see what I got!"

Spider-Man returned in Peter Parker's place. Seeing half of the Avengers, he turned to the Merc. "What did you do now, Deadpool?" He was trying for disappointment but sounded more amused than anything.

Deadpool was looking expectantly at the newcomers, not sure what he had done this time but assuming it had been him all the same. It obviously hadn't been his baby boy and as far as he knew the Avengers didn't even know he had a girlfriend.

"He kidnapped.... you." You couldn't see his face but you could hear the confusion in Tony's voice. "Widow saw you injured in the battle earlier today but no one could find you. I had Jarvis hack the security camera outside the nearby bank and we saw Wilson carrying you away."

"Tsk tsk. Is hacking really 'hero' behavior, Tin Man?" Deadpool wiggled his index finger at him as he tsked.

He was ignored.

Cap looked from the bandaged spider, to you, then back to the Merc at a loss for words. What was going on? And why in God's name was Wade Wilson dressed as a nurse? He hoped he was hallucinating.

"He didn't take you against your will?" The all-American hero was concerned.

The Merc snorted. "Puh-leeze. Spidey loves it when we play Doctor." With that he disappeared back into the bedroom.

He was back in a flash, having left the corset and sword behind for a frilly, barely-there, red, white and blue outfit, complete with stockings and garter belt.

He held it up to the Captain's bulky chest "Should fit."

Steve actually took a step back. The appalled look on his face had you trying your hardest not to laugh. This was Captain America after all. A national icon! Were you even allowed to laugh? It was probably a felony.

Spider-Man on the other hand, wasn't so good at hiding his amusement.

"You okay, son?" Cap asked seriously, doing his best to ignore a scantily clad mercenary holding out lingerie to him.

Everyone turned to look at the arachnid. His mask was back in place but his chest was still bare save for the reddening bandages. His arms were wrapped around his own torso, trying to stop the laughing that obviously caused a great deal of pain.

"I'd be great if you stopped making me laugh." Spidey wheezed, body tensing. "Seriously, the look on your faces."

You wrapped an arm gently around Spider-Man's slender waist for support, drawing attention to yourself and, for the first time, the Avengers seemed to really notice you.

If you hadn't been spending all of your non-working hours of the last few months with Spider-Man and Deadpool you'd have been majorly impressed by the sight of the Avengers. Hell, you'd have been more than impressed, you'd have totally been fangirling. Especially seeing as your favorite hero, Hawkeye, was now walking toward you - _those arms!!_ But as it was - you hated to think it but - they were kind of... _average_.

"Okay, this looks bad." Clint looked from you to the Merc. "Civilian hostages, Wade?"

"She's no hostage! Sure, there was that one time, but it was for the greater good. Scouts Honor! And now she's one hundred percent willing to be here!" He managed to somehow look insulted while wearing a mask and holding skimpy underwear up to Captain America.

"I'm a nurse, an actual nurse, I don't just play one." You sent a smile to Wade. "Deadpool brought Spider-Man back here so I could patch him up. The three of us are friends." You hurried to explain before any of them could ask you what exactly the hostage situation had been 'that one time'.

The three Avengers exchanged glances. They obviously didn't know what to make of that statement. Luckily, you were still wearing your hospital scrubs and ID badge. You were grateful Wade hadn't brought out the Dr. Sexy costume earlier and somehow talked you into it - he was good at that - because you'd have had zero credibility then.

"You're both friends? With Deadpool? Deadpool has friends?" Stark asked with such a disbelieving tone that you wanted to smack that shocked look, you were sure he was wearing, right off his shiny metal head.

"Actually, Spidey and Wade and me and Spidey are friends. Wade and I are lovers." You felt the need to clarify, in no way ashamed of the scarred anti-hero.

You'd never seen Wade look so happy. He was positively beaming at the way you claimed him in front of others.

"We fondue like you wouldn't believe." He winked at the Captain. "Not that we don't offer to let Spidey join, we totally do because we're not selfish like that." He paused, sending a surprisingly effective glare to Iron Man. "I'm pretty sure he was finally about to accept our offer before Earth's Mightiest Cockblockers took out my door."

Spider-Man face palmed. His injuries weren't fatal but his embarrassment at this point just might be. You cursed his mask for covering what you knew must be a truly magnificent shade of red.

Iron Man retracted his face shield, looking absolutely horrified. Completely ignoring the comments about cockblocking and gay sex, he looked at you. "Really? Deadpool? Next you'll be telling us bird brain here is your favorite Avenger."

Everyone was now ignoring the Merc as he rambled on about the benefits of a menage a trois and exactly why they called him the Merc with a mouth. And it wasn't what you thought. _Wink wink_.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Stark." You sassed, not at all sorry.

Tony looked incredulous. "Seriously? Your favorite? Hello, I'm the billionaire Tony Stark and, uh, Captain America!" He guestured grandly toward his star spangled teammate.

The poor Captain still looked out of sorts, throwing the occasional worried glance at Deadpool, moving closer and closer to his teammates.

"Money isn't everything!" You resisted the over whelming urge to squeeze the glorious biceps that Clint's sleeveless uniform put on display.

Besides, Peter's earlier reaction left you imaging future possibilities, and two superhero boyfriends ought to keep you busy enough, you didn't need to add a third.

The Archer was grinning smugly at the playboy. You had a feeling Stark wasn't going to live this down for quite some time and you were happy to help.

The wall crawler was starting to sag against you, becoming heavier, growing quiet, and you were starting to worry. Earth's Mightiest Heroes in your kitchen or not, Peter needed food. Badly.

"Sorry guys, you're either gonna have to leave or join us because Spidey needs food with his healing factor working overtime." You helped the young man to the table and sat him down in front of a heaping pile of pizza.

"Thanks for the invite but I think I'll have to miss Sausagefest 2015. No offense." He gave you the patented Stark smirk that made panties drop. "You're a gorgeous woman, but you seem to have your hands full."

Steve looked slightly confused but he hid it well. Sausagefest? He didn't ask.

"Aww, you sure, Stark? I'm sure you'd look great in some lacey undies." You quipped.

Tony laughed, his voice going tinny as he slid the iron mask back into place. "I'll have someone come fix this door right away." He said in lieu of an apology, wood crunching underfoot upon his exit.

Captain America shrugged. "I guess we'll be going, if you're sure that you're okay?"

Spider-Man nodded, mouth full of pepperoni and sausage. He'd barely sat before pulling his mask up to his nose and shoveling pizza into his mouth. He gave the older man a greasy thumbs up.

Cap then turned to you and you couldn't help but melt a little under that warm blue gaze. "I'm terribly sorry for barging in like this. Are you sure you're alright, ma'am?"

You couldn't tell by that Greek God of a body that he was older than your grandpa but his voice gave it away. He was just too sweet, far too polite for your generation.

"Don't worry about it, Cap. And I'm more than alright. Thanks." You grinned, eyeing Wade the way Peter eyed his pizza.

He nodded, clearing his throat in embarrassment. Satisfied with your assurances, he headed back out the way he came, following his metal teammate, before Deadpool could mention any more sexual escapades.

Hawkeye stopped in the doorway, turning back to look at you, running a hand through his blonde hair, bicep flexing. "Sorry about the mess, but hey, if it doesn't work out with Wade, call me." He winked and left.

You couldn't help but smile. You genuinely weren't interested but it made you feel good to know you could land an Avenger.

Deadpool grumbled as he propped the ruined door haphazardly against the opening. Then joined you at the table to finally eat, discarding his mask once more.

"I'm only sharing you with my Petey-Pie. Hawkguy touches you and he'll find out if he can fly off the top of Stark Tower."

You reached across the table, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "You and Petey-Pie are everything I could ever need."

Peter was deep in thought, worrying over the close call he'd just had with his teammates. Sure, he fought along side them, trusted his life in their hands, but his identity? That was something altogether different. Maybe someday he would, but he wasn't ready now, three people knowing his secret was enough.

You'd begun eating your own, not nearly as delicious looking pizza, grimacing as Peter finally removed his mask. "You staying here tonight? You're going to have a hell of a time explaining that to your aunt."

Spidey sighed. He hadn't seen himself in the mirror yet, but if the look that you gave him was any indication it wasn't pretty. He hated lying to the only family he had left, but it was for her own good.

What he really needed was to move out of his aunt's house. No sneaking around in the middle of the night, or covering bruises with your borrowed makeup, or secretly using the sewing machine to mend his suit while his aunt was out at Bingo. But this was New York City and there was no way he could afford his own place, not while he was still going to college.

He hadn't meant to say any of that out loud but knew he did because you answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You could just move in here with us."

You shrugged like it was no big deal but Peter was touched. He gave Wade a sheepish, sideways glance, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Great idea, babe! It would be like one, epic, never ending sleep over! But with a lot of mind blowing sex!" Wade was practically bouncing in his seat.

To no one's surprise, Peter was blushing again.

The Merc continued, "Well, there's only one bedroom. If we're going to be sleeping together we might as well be _sleeping together_. Know what I mean?" His exaggerated wink got his point across perfectly.

It wasn't entirely true. Your apartment did have a second bedroom, but it was full of Wade's heavy artillery and other Merc necessities. Completely full. The door could barely close kind of full. You didn't even know half of what was in there and that was probably for the best. Plausible deniabilty and all that.

"Hell, you wouldn't even have to pay rent. We make plenty of money. All we ask is that you clean the house wearing one of those cute little French maid get ups." Wade's eyes were twinkling now, so excited he almost forgot he had pizza in front of him.

Peter's face was an odd mix of purple (bruises) and a dark pink blush. He looked like he was seriously contemplating the offer however.

Something had definitely changed in the young hero. He'd never seemed even remotely interested in any of the Merc's advances before, even when you were involved. Now, here he was, debating whether or not to move in with the two of you, despite Wade's constant sexual harassment. Either he'd become interested, or was that hard up for a change in living arangements.

You hoped it was the former. As it was the young man was here more often than not and the three of you got along amazingly well. There were no other people you trusted more than the two sitting at your table, and what better foundation for a relationship, no matter how strange, than trust?

Peter pushed his empty plate away, seemingly having come to a decision. "Okay, I mean, if you guys are serious? It would be a lot easier for me and probably safer for Aunt May as well." He was chewing nervously on his already torn bottom lip, reopening the wound.

You handed him a napkin and smiled. Now you had two people to take care of full time. "Of course we're serious. But, about the French maid -"

Peter shrugged, turning red once again, cutting you off mid sentence. "It's okay, I mean, I know I won't look as good as Wade in a dress but..."

His voice trailed off nervously, realizing what he'd just admitted. Wade squealed with delight, sliding across the table, knocking uneaten pizza to the floor, and wrapped his arms around both of your necks, pulling you in for a group hug. Peter grunted in pain but relented, throwing one arm around the delighted Merc and the other around you.

You'd agree to damn near anything if it made the Merc this happy, and you had to admit, you were happy about it too. You'd never put much thought into a three way relationship, - that seemed like something best left for porn, or tawdry romance novels - but now that it was a serious possibility, you were intrigued. You genuinely cared for Peter, and he did have a great ass.

"So, about sleeping arrangements..." Wade was grinning like the Cheshire cat, scars pulling in the corner of his mouth, but still managing to look adorable.

You looked to the spider expectantly. This was going to be fun.

"You'd better not snore, Wade." Was his reply, and he wasn't even blushing.


	5. My Anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst and shower sex! Wee!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My very first prompt! Yay me :) Wanted some more angsty/fluffy/smut where the reader was the insecure one. 
> 
> Hope this is what you had in mind, "Add". Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Xoxo

You were dutifully watching the news like you always did when your lover was out fighting God knows what kind of creature menace with his fellow Avengers.

It never ceased to amaze you just how many supervillians or alien hoards chose to attack New York City when it happened to be one of the most heavily guarded cities in America. You supposed it was the various weaponry and other powerful items that needed to be guarded which drew the villains in. Seemed like a fruitless endeavor to you, but nonetheless they invaded and so you watched the news, waiting to catch glimpses of your hopefully uninjured boyfriend.

Yet another battle had ended and there he was, familiar red and black mask of his Deadpool persona filling the screen. It wasn't clear just how many injuries he had sustained, but you knew right away he was going to have to toss that tattered mess of a suit out.

He was picking large shards of glass out of his heavily bleeding arm, like someone might pull out the tiniest of slivers, busy chatting amicably with Captain America himself, when the reporter interrupted.

"Would either of you like to comment on whether or not the Avengers are detrimental to the safety of this city?" She rudely stuck the microphone in between the men and the look it warranted from Deadpool had you guessing he was going to be sticking that mic somewhere else soon.

Before he could speak more than a growl in defense of the Avengers a civilian woman ran into the group, wrapping her arms gratefully around the injured Merc, shouting how he was a hero and had saved her life by helping her out of the burning wreckage of a taxi. She was filthy, dust and debris littered her long, blonde hair and expensive clothes, there was a black eye rapidly forming and a bleeding gash on her cheek but it was still obvious how gorgeous she was.

Captain America smiled at the pair, while Deadpool awkwardly patted the woman's back, leaving bloody handprints behind on her sweater.

"I think the reactions of the citizens of this wonderful city speak for themselves." Cap answered politely.

You should have been elated, your love was - relatively - unharmed and the city was once again safe, but as you watched him with the blonde beauty the familiar weight of your own inadequacies came crashing down on you.

You hated this, hated over thinking every good thing in your life until you turned it into a bad thing, finding any excuse as to why you weren't good enough, why it would never work.

Hell, sometimes you didn't even have to try that hard, there was nothing special about you. You were an average lower middle class New Yorker, born and raised. You'd rarely left the state, never mind the country. You were no world class traveler like the former mercenary. You had absolutely no super powers, never did a damn thing that was heroic - unless you included knocking that bully's tooth out in the 9th grade for picking on your friend. Most days you didn't even think you were all that much to look at. On a good day, if you put in maximum effort, you would describe yourself as cute, and there certainly wasn't anything exciting about the waitressing job you had at the Mexican restaurant down the street, even though Wade really did love it when you came home smelling like chimichangas.

When you and Wade had started dating he was still a diamond in the rough, so to speak. You'd seen the potential that few others had, how hard he'd really been trying to do the right thing, to be a hero. He credited you with his amazing transformation but that wasn't true and you knew it. He'd had had it within him all along, he'd just needed someone to believe in him and you did.

Now, almost a year and a half after you'd first met, he was fighting along side his idol Captain America, saving damsels from burning cabs. The world was finally starting to see him for the hero you always knew him to be and now you couldn't help but feel you were holding him back. You were nothing special, but he certainly was.

*****

By the time Wade Wilson banged through the door, announcing his arrival loud enough to make you jump, you'd nearly worn a path in the carpet trying to walk off your nervous energy. You were too anxious to sit, and yet your mind couldn't focus of any sort of meaningful task.

He strode confidently into the apartment, pulling off his torn and bloodied mask, tossing it to the floor with his gloves. The wet material hit the floor with a sickening splat. He may have bled quite a bit today but hadn't lost any limbs, so all in all he'd chalk it up as a win.

He had turned to smile at you, ready for a warm welcome home, but before he could say a word, you stopped your frantic pacing and mumbled "We need to talk."

He'd heard those words before, and in exactly that tone too. He'd just gone from being on top of the world - he'd fought the good fight and been called a hero! - to the lowest of the low.

His broad shoulders slumped, large body folding in on itself, ready to take the emotional blow he knew was coming. "You're dumping me. I've heard this before. 'it's not you, it's me' when I know damn well it's always me. I guess I should have known this wasn't going to last, good things never do. Not for me. I'm a bat shit crazy and ugly as fuck, don't deserve you anyway. Can't believe you didn't dump me sooner." He voice was a heart breaking mixture of anger and self loathing.

His sudden outburst surprised and saddened you. "What? No! I'm not dumping you. Well, I mean, I thought maybe for your own good I should. You can obviously do so much better than me. I'm the one who doesn't deserve you... and I don't know... " You were normally so much better at articulating your feelings, but then, you'd really never felt this way about anyone before.

He'd gone absolutely still, staring at you as if you'd sprouted an extra head. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Then he started laughing, a loud, booming laugh that was completely inappropriate to the context.

You frowned, crossing your arms defensively over your chest. Sure, maybe you weren't being as eloquent as you liked but, dammit, this wasn't easy for you. You were trying to explain your feelings and he was laughing!

"Did you really just say _you_ weren't good enough for _me_? Or am I hearing the voices again?" He cocked his head to one side. Maybe he'd gotten hit harder than he thought during the earlier battle, that would explain some things, because your words certainly weren't making any sense to him.

"I'm trying to be serious here, Wade!" You snapped.

"In this relationship I'm supposed to be the crazy, insecure mess, not you." He was grinning now, with confirmation that he had, indeed, heard you correctly he could honestly say you were being absolutely ridiculous.

You sighed. You'd hoped, even if deep down you hadn't expected it, that he would tell you you were wrong and life could continue as you knew it, but he was far too amused by all this.

He put his hands up, palms face out, in mock surrender. "You know I don't do serious all that well, babe. Can't hardly blame me. Feelings are so messy. I hate getting mushy." He pouted out his bottom lip like a 200 pound toddler. "You're going to make me get mushy though, aren't ya?"

"I'm not making you do anything. I'm just saying, if you want out, I get it." You looked away as tears filled your eyes again.

Deadpool sighed. He really hated saying shit like this out loud but knew he had to, so he braced himself, taking a deep breath. "Okay, it's true, you're my anchor, but you see it as holding me back and I see it as keeping me from aimlessly drifting through life."

You couldn't believe your ears. Was this the same Deadpool? "That was so poetic." You gave a small laugh, tears filling your eyes again, but this time for a different reason.

The Merc grinned. "Hey, I said I didn't like being all sappy, not that I couldn't. I can be charming as fuck if I try."

"I love you too, Wade." You smiled, rushing forward to throw yourself in his arms, no longer caring about the blood and other bodily fluids that made his marred skin tacky.

"I know. Now can you stop being an idiot so we can shower?"

You felt the rumbled of his words against you cheek as it pressed into his warm chest. "Probably a good idea, you stink." He smelled of blood, sweat, and some unidentifiable sulfuric odor you didn't even want to think about.

You pulled away, smiling up at the taller man who was giving you a look of mild shock. "You wound me. And ya know, you don't smell all that great yourself."

Before you could argue, saying you did indeed smell delicious - thank you, new body wash - he dipped his fingers in a blackish looking fluid that was still tacky on his pant leg, then smeared it across your cheek, smiling proudly all the while.

And just like that, the two of you were right back where you'd left off this morning, before he'd run off with the Avengers. You were too happy to even care what exactly he'd just smeared on your face, even if it was the substance that was giving off the odor of sulfur.

"You're disgusting!" You said with mock anger.

Moving with practiced ease and surprising speed the Merc was a blur as he rushed forward and grabbed you around the legs, throwing you over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. You let out an undignified squeak that you'd never admit to, then grinned because, despite the smell of his pants, you were in perfect position to slap his ass.

You groped your way to the bathroom, enjoying every inch of his ass and every second of his throaty laughter.

He put you down gently on your feet, then moved in for a kiss that you denied with a hand firmly pressed flat against his chest. You leaned away, pressing yourself into the sink counter, making a sour face.

"Shower before sex." You ordered, trying not to breathe through your nose.

 

Wade had never taken a quicker shower in his life, and that was saying something with years of military service under his belt.

The second the last bubble of soap rinsed clean, he pounced, attacking your mouth with his own. Deep, hungry kisses that assured you just how much he wanted to with be you and only you.

Strong, rough hands roamed over your slick skin, following the curves of your breasts and hips, as he kissed along your neck, sucking a bruise onto your collar bone. He worked his way down, slowly, torturously, until his hands found the swell of your ass, giving a firm squeeze before hoisting you up to wrap you legs around his waist.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, gently tracing the scars at the back of his neck with your fingertips when his lips met yours once more.

He pulled away, grinning, brown eyes meeting yours. "Am I clean enough now?"

It took you a moment to answer, having just been kissed breathless. "Still so very dirty. But I'll allow it." You smirked, grinding your hips against the erection that was now pressed between your thighs.

He groaned, lifting you up just enough to let his cock slip free. Then, without warning, supporting you with one hand on the back of your thigh, he used his free hand to guide himself into you with a quick, hard thrust that had you crying out in a heady mixture of pain and pleasure.

Your nails dug into his back, making him bleed anew as he pounded you into the warm, tile wall. Each well aimed thrust hit your sweet spot and wretched a cry from your lips until you climaxed, screaming his name.

He was panting against your throat, brought closer to the edge by every noise you made, relishing in the fact that he could get such a reaction from you, and so quickly.

Not long after the first orgasm you came a second time and this time he followed, swallowing your screams of pleasure between sloppy kisses.

He pulled out slowly, still holding you under the warm spray of water, resting his forehead against yours, eyes closed, as he tried to get his breathing under control.

"You know," You were the first to break the silence, "I think I'm going to like being your anchor."


	6. Knight in Shiny Spandex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpool tends to your injuries after a battle and you reaction takes him by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a prompt from HarleyDeadpool. Hope you like it! I don't know how to tag! Lol

When you first woke up, sometime around midnight, you couldn't remember a whole lot from the last few hours, especially how you'd gotten to your current location, but you knew it wasn't any place you'd been before.

Last thing you could recall were some truly disturbing looking aliens flooding the streets of New York. You'd hurried into the fray, willing to do your part to help, fighting alongside the likes of the Avengers and the Fantastic Four. It had been an all hands on deck type of situation.

You thrived on the adrenalin rush, happy to use your powers to help others and blow off a little steam at the same time, taking your frustrations out on those stupid enough to try and invade your city.

If your recollections were correct the tides had been turning in your favor. The alien hoards retreating, outgunned if not out manned. You'd been laughing at how easily they were being defeated, despite their fearsome appearance, when everything had gone dark.

Now you were waking up in a strange room that was filthier than the battlefield you'd been taken from.

You stretched thoroughly, assessing your body for any injuries. You were littered with cuts and bruises, but nothing life threatening. You reached up to sweep hair out of your face, finally noticing the bandage that stretched across your forehead. As soon as you noticed the injury it began to throb with pain, a dull headache stretched behind your eyes.

Ah. Head wound. No wonder you'd blacked out. But that still didn't tell you where you were.

You turned onto your uninjured side, nose wrinkling in disgust as your face burrowed into the pillow, smelling of Mexican food and blood. You rolled back over, not wanting to think about what you might be laying in.

You reached out blindly in the darkness, trying to take in your surroundings while moving your aching skull as little as possible. To your right was more mattress, a pile of discarded blankets and what may have been food wrappers, sources of the taco odor. To your left was a rickety bed side table, with a box of tissues, a small lamp and what felt like a pistol, which you assumed you didn't need seeing as whoever had taken you was obviously trying to help if your bandaged wounds were any indication.

You clicked on the lamp, filling the small room with a soft yellow glow.

From your prone position on the bed you could see a high stack of boxes labeled in what looked like red crayon with titles like TNT, C4, ammo.

Who the hell had taken you? You were starting to worry a super villain had gotten ahold of you when you looked straight ahead, noticing a doorless closet, filled with familiar red and black spandex suits.

If it weren't for the pain in your head you would have laughed out loud. You were apparently in the bedroom of the infamous Deadpool, which explained so much. You didn't doubt he would be competent with first aid after serving in the military, but you had never taken him for the 'knight in shining armor' type.

You'd fought alongside the Merc with a Mouth on various occasions and it had always been fun, his katanas were as sharp as his tongue, but you'd never encountered him in such a private setting.

With a low groan and a lot of teeth clenching you managed to sit up, noticing for the first time that there were stitches in your shoulder. You ran fingertips lightly over the wound. The stitches felt tight and precise, the scarring would be minimal.

You sat at the edge of the sagging mattress a moment, waiting for the throbbing in your head to subside, before getting gingerly to your feet.

You were naked, which was slightly worrisome given the circumstances. Where your no doubt ruined super suit was you had no idea, but you'd worry about that later. You picked up what seemed to be the cleanest, if smell was any indicator, t-shirt off the floor and pulled in on, making sure your movements were slow and precise, not wanting to risk another black out.

The shirt was way too big for you, which was a good thing, because it covered all the way to your knees. Leaving your modesty in tact, though there was little doubt in your mind the Merc had already seen all there was to see.

You'd made it to the closed door, stopping with your hand on the knob, as a familiar raspy voice caught your attention.

"She's going to be fine, and no I don't think this is an appropriate time to ask her out.... Haha you're so funny I forgot to laugh.... Fuck you, I can get a date without someone having a head injury first.... Yeah, your probably right...."

Your smile turned to a frown. You liked the Merc, always had. It angered you how the others were always talking down to him, treating him like less than a human being. Whoever was on the other side of this door was going to get a piece of your mind! Providing the yelling didn't make you pass out again.

You opened the door quietly, surveying what was an open floor plan, one large room that was the kitchen and living room combined. The mercenary stood at the stove, alone.

Your frown deepened. You had heard talk of the 'voices' in his head, a fact that probably should have worried you a lot more than it did. What upset you most was that his own subconscious spoke to him in such a manner. That was a whole new level of self loathing.

"Hey! Sleeping Beauty awakes!" He crooned, breaking you out of your thoughts.

The loud booming of his voice made you wince, head throbbing.

"Sorry! Sorry." He all but whispered. "You got quite the nasty gash on your forehead. Still look hot wearing my shirt though." He wink was visible behind the mask.

"Well, it appears someone stole my clothes." You snarked, sticking your tongue out like the full grown adult you were.

He somehow managed to look embarrassed despite the mask, as he added to a tall stack of pancakes already on the small, wobbly kitchen table. He motioned for you to sit.

"Sorry, you had a lot of cuts to tend to. I swear I didn't touch anything I shouldn't have! Scouts honor." He saluted you wth the spatula still in his gloved hand.

You laughed, which really wasn't good for your head. You were starting to wonder if you had a concussion. Didn't matter, either way you were starving and the pancakes smelled delicious.

You sat in the chair he indicated. "Didn't you grow up in Canada?" You asked, knowing full well that he was no boy scout.

He smiled, ducking into his grimey refrigerator. "True. Which means I have genuine maple syrup." He set the bottle on the table in front of you. "None of that fake shit you American's seem to like."

He made a face, sticking his tongue out, which looked even more ridiculous behind the mask, before sitting across from you.

"These taste amazing, Wade!" You said around a mouthful of perfect, golden brown deliciousness. "Can I call you Wade?" You added as an afterthought.  
You couldn't remember anyone calling him by his real name, there could be a reason for that, even if he didn't seem to be doing the whole secret identity thing.

Deadpool shrugged nonchalantly, but in truth hearing you say his name had sent shivers down his spine. "It's fine, call me whatever you want. I've been called a lot of things, by a lot of people, most of them not good but never mind I'm getting off topic... " He was babbling as the voices screamed at him to not ruin the moment.

You smiled. "Wade it is then. I'm (y/n) by the way. I don't know if you knew."

"I didn't until earlier, when Cap was yelling for you after that building collapsed. That's how you got the boo boo on your head bee tee dubs." He pointed to his own forehead where your mirrored wound was.

You remembered then. The six story tenement house had been run through by one of the aliens ships. You'd seen it starting to topple with no way to get clear in time, when something had covered you, shielding your body from the worst of the debris.

Your mouth fell open, half chewed pancake inside which must have been really sexy. "Oh my God, Wade. It was you wasn't it?"

The so called selfish mercenary who supposedly only helped when he was getting paid had shielded your body with his own. Your fellow superheros were so far off base you couldn't believe it. You were going to set them straight at the debriefing you'd have to attend the next day.

Before you knew it you were out of the chair, ignoring the persistent pain in your head, and had gone to the Merc, hands gently roaming over his back, looking for injury.

His body had gone still, every muscle coiled tightly, like a spring ready to snap. As you checked for injuries you realized just how many highly toned muscles there were.

His body did look damn impressive in that suit. You'd always wondering if it was the suit or if his body was really that defined underneath. Now you had your answer.

"I'm fine, really." He assured you, voice rougher than usual. "My healing factor makes Wolvie jealous. Seriously, I've been blown into little bits before and I'm always good as new. Even when I don't want to be." He paused, listening to something you couldn't here. "I know. Shuddap."

You sat in the chair beside him, your pancakes all but forgotten. "You saved my life. Thank you."

Deadpool shrugged again, not at all liking the serious direction the conversation had taken. "No biggie. Seriously, couldn't let an ass like that go to waste, could I?"

You snorted out a laugh before he told you to finish your food, that your body needed its strength. He was right, but you didn't move away from him. Instead you pulled the plate over, pushing the syrup towards his plate.

"Don't tell me the Canadian doesn't use real maple syrup."

He laughed, but paused a moment, listening once again to what had to be the voices only he could hear. "I do, but throwing up right now would totally kill with your concussion so I'll wait until you're in the other room."

You frowned, thoroughly confused. Maybe it was your addled brain, but you were obviously missing a big piece of the puzzle.

"Why would I throw up? These are incredible!" You motioned with a fork full of pancake before shoving it in your mouth.

You licked at the excess syrup that had run down your lip and he thought he was going to lose it right then. He should have known better than to bring a super hot superhero home, even an injured one who genuinely seemed to like his company. It was not going to end well. It never did.

"Not the food. I may only cook a few dishes but what I make I make to perfection." He said proudly. One of the few things he had to be proud of, the voices reminded him. Everything else about him was mostly one giant fucking mess.

"So, what then?" There was something going on here that you were not grasping.

"My face." The Merc answered quietly. "Cancer, Weapon X, great healing factor but completely disfigured. I'm sure all the readers know my origin story by now."

You didn't know who these 'readers' were but you took the comment in stride. "Seriously, Wade. I don't care if you look like the Phantom of the Opera, eat your damn pancakes. I'm not gonna get sick.  
Christ. Are people really that awful?"

He ignored your question. He didn't blame the people that vomited, or ran away screaming. It was a natural reaction to the sideshow horror that was his face. But that didn't stop him from longing to be accepted, something he'd never admit, and didn't deserve, the boxes were kind enough to add.

"More like Freddy Kruger, really." He said, still not eating. "At least the Phantom had half a normal face."

His comments were said so seriously that they made your heart ache more than your head. It was obviously something he'd been over again and again.

You put down your fork, pushing your empty plate away, and took his gloved hand in both of yours. "I don't know what kind of assholes you're used to dealing with but I'm not one of them okay." You stared straight into the white eyes of his mask, a small smirk playing at the corners of your mouth. "I won't be disgusted, believe me. Scouts honor."

You were fairly certain his eyes rolled behind the mask. "Fine, if you wanna see the freak show then it's your own fault if you make your head worse. I tried to warn you."

He pulled his hand our of your grasp, using both to roll of his mask, stopping just above his nose, only exposing enough flesh necessary to eat.

He watched you closely, white eyes narrowing. You simply smiled, letting your gaze roam over the scarred, mottled, uneven skin that ran along his his jaw and throat, disappearing into his suit. His lips were dry, slightly cracked, but full and you had an almost overwhelming urge to find out how they tasted.

You decided to wait until after he ate his pancakes, then they'd taste as Canadian as the man himself was.

Your smile widened, taking on a mischievous quality that made the Merc uneasy. His boxes, for the first time in a long time, were completely silent. They were just as shocked as he was that you'd shown none of the usual reactions and that actually smiled. It was beautiful smile too, all full pink lips and perfect white teeth. He wasn't even hungry anymore, but began to eat anyway before he said something he'd regret.

"So... You mind if I stay the rest of the night?" You decided to be bold, not sure the Merc would understand sublety. "I mean, my head is pretty banged up but some heavy petting shouldn't hurt."

Deadpool coughed, choking on his food. He definitely had not heard you right. He was sure the delusions were gone for good, but apparently he'd been wrong, because you most definitely had not just said what he'd thought you said. Sure, he looked pretty damn good in spandex, tall and well muscled, but you'd seen the majority of his face and it didn't get any better the farther South you went.

"I'm sorry, what? I think I blanked out a minute there. Happens some times. Not quite right upstairs." He tapped a finger to his temple.

The voices were still silent and he was more than a little lost.

You'd been attracted to the Merc for some time now, against your better judgment perhaps, but now that you'd seen this whole other side to him you knew there was something worth saving in this man. He wasn't only what he appeared to be on the surface.

"I said, I want to climb you like a tree but my head is messed up so I'll have to rain check that and settle for something a little less vigorous."

Deadpool blinked, stunned silent for the first time in a long time. Suddenly the voices came back online, with a ferocity that surprised him. They were screaming at him to say yes, to take advantage of you while he could, before your head wound healed and you realized you were making a very bad decision.

"I really like the sound of that, don't get me wrong. You're beautiful and you have a great rack and you look crazy hot in my Spider-Man t-shirt but, and don't take this the wrong way, I think maybe you're not right in the head." Wade winced, then definitely didn't come out as good as he hoped.

You weren't offended, exactly the opposite, that only spurred you on more. It was now your personal mission to show the mercenary just how wrong all those awful people he'd had to endure over the years that been.

With a strength that surprised the mercenary - you weren't a superhero for nothing - you pushed the table away, leaving yourself enough room to crawl into the man's lap.

He didn't make a sound or move a single muscle as you straddled him in the kitchen chair and pressed your warm mouth firmly to his. Immediately your tongue sought entrance and he complied, still in shock.

His hands finally moved to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise but you didn't mind, you were too busy tasting syrup in the Merc's mouth.

You swallowed his eager moan as you ground your hips against his, feeling his erection digging into your bare thigh. Your hands went to his face, fingers gently tracing the scars that you eagerly accepted. As far as you were concerned they were just part of the whole crazy package and you wanted it all.

He relaxed into your touch, ignoring the boxes, ignoring everything but the sensation of your lips on his, the way your fingers ghosted so gently over his damaged skin like it was flawless porcelain, the way you eagerly rutted against him, wanting more. He hadn't felt anything like this is so long and he was desperate for it. But he also knew he had to stop you.

If he took advantage of you now he'd be the monster everyone thought he was and dammit, he did still have a shred of self respect.

He pulled away, making you whine at the loss of contact. "We can't do this now. You're injured and it would be just taking advantage of you...."

You sighed. Who would have thought a mercenary would be such a gentleman? "You're sure?" You asked, rubbing the heat between your thighs once again along his erection.

He groaned, low in his throat. "I'm sure." He spoke breathlessly, trying to ignore the voices that loudly cursed his chivalry.

You kissed him one last time, long and slow, before standing up, letting your eyes roam none too subletly over the impressive length that tented his spandex.

He deeply regretted his decision as soon as you stood. Was this what Captain America felt like all the time? Being a hero was not all what it was cracked up to be!

"I heal pretty fast." You informed him. "Not nearly as impressive as you, but I should be fine by morning." You ran your eyes once again over his erect member, making sure he caught you double meaning. "And we are definitely continuing this then."

Deadpool swallowed hard. Wasn't he supposed to be the crazy one? He was starting to wonder just how hard you'd hit your head when he'd tackled to you the floor in that crumbling building.

He cleared his throat, not moving from the chair, as you sauntered toward the bedroom. "You're not supposed to sleep more than three hours with a concussion."

You paused in the doorway, turning to wink over your shoulder. "Then wake me in three hours, I'll be more than ready by then."

Deadpool whimpered. This was going to be a long three hours....


	7. Failsafe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deadpoo's heart is breaking every time he sees you give Cap that look...but wait... Could it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm... Not sure how I feel about this chapter. Guess I'll see what you guys think.. 
> 
> This is written for a prompt for rosepetaled, hope you like it!

"You two would make beautiful babies." Natasha's lips barely moved as she spoke, looking straight ahead.

The two of you sat side by side in the middle of an Avengers' debriefing, watching Captain America give a rousing speech about truth, justice and the American way.

Or something like that, neither of you knew because honestly neither had been listening. Nat was too busy trying to get you to hook up with Cap, and though you had to admit his ass looked fantastic in that red, white and blue suit as he turned around to face the opposite side of the conference room, you knew the two of you were better off friends.

"We would have the prettiest babies." You agreed with a silent laugh.

Deadpool sat beside you. Sitting still and quiet weren't two things he was very skilled at on a normal day, but today, listening to the love of his life prattle on about how she wanted to sex up his childhood hero made him want to throw himself out the fifty second story window.

Okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic. It wasn't like this was the first time he'd had feelings for a woman - or man - that they didn't reciprocate, and he knew it wouldn't be the last either. It was tough being the leading man when you worked alongside specimens like Captain fucking America, and had the skin of a freak show performer.

He was eyeing the window, wondering if Stark had forked over the cash for bullet proof glass. Knowing him, probably.

Deadpool sighed.

"I'm sorry, is the welfare of the innocent boring you?" Steve looked every bit the National icon as he stared the Merc down, feet set wide, hands on his hips.

"Actually, - " Wade was just about to go into a tirade about how bored he really was when you kicked him, hard, under the table. "Ow! Motherfucker!"

"Continue, Cap." You smiled sweetly at your leader while the injured Merc beside you mimicked your words and tone, pouting like a child.

The Captain smiled back at you, a smile that no doubt caused panties all over the globe to drop, and Deadpool swore to the gods if he didn't get out of that room soon someone was going to die.

The Merc had been rejected before, plenty of times, sometimes gently, sometimes cruelly. He didn't know why this time hurt so much.

Technically you hadn't even rejected him. You never came right out and said no because he'd never come right out and asked you. You even treated him better than most, laughing at his stupid jokes, and touching him without a second thought like he was normal. Maybe that's why he was such a mess, he'd really thought, this time, he had a chance.

That was, until watching you and the star spangled hero eye fuck each other for close to an hour.

The Merc pulled a large knife out of his boot holster, turning it over slowly in his hands, day dreaming about poking out both eyes so he wouldn't have to watch this nightmare unfold before him. He wondered if they'd delay this god awful meeting until he came to, or just continue on over his dead body? His luck, they'd wait.

Cap finished his thoughts, giving Coulson the floor. During the lull you leaned over, placing your hand over the Merc's, stilling his smooth movements.

"What's wrong?" Your large eyes searched his mask, hoping for any clues.

You sounded legitimately concerned, which was just fucking killing him. Why did you have to be so goddamn perfect?! No one cared about the Merc and it was easier that way. If no one cared about him, he didn't have to care about them. No harm, no foul.

"Wade?" You pressured.

And the way you said his name! No one called him Wade, it was either Wilson, or Deadpool, or something far worse. The way that single syllable rolled off your tongue was like music to his ears.

Now he was also thinking about stabbing the knife into said ears so he could no longer hear or see you.

When was this meeting going to end? He needed to get out! Were the walls closing in or was he losing his mind? Fucking Stark, he would probably build moveable walls just to mess with people. Then again, the Merc had lost his mind long ago...

Coulson had been brief, his speech not nearly as enthralling as the Captain's.

As soon as everyone was dismissed Deadpool bolted from his seat, sending it spinning backward into the wall. Leaving in such a hurry he dropped his knife on the floor beside your chair.

"What the hell was that all about?" You picked up the knife, looking to your friend for answers.

Nat was fairly certain she knew exactly what that was all about. She was a super spy after all, and one didn't get to live this long in the business without being able to read people. Deadpool may flirt with everyone but she could tell the way he acted around you was different. For your own sake she'd been trying to, not so gently, push you toward Steve instead, knowing full well how hard a life with a tortured assassin would be.

So, instead of being truthful, she just shrugged, focusing on non-existent dirt beneath her nails. "He's crazy, who knows why he does anything?"

You frowned. She did not like the look of that frown.

"He's not as bad as everyone says, Nat."

Great, now you were defending the mercenary. She had to step up her game before things go really out of hand.

  
*****

  
Months ago Deadpool would have been ecstatic to receive a call from Steve Rogers, requesting his help with taking out a Hydra base. The team was split between two different threats and it was all hands on deck, exactly the type of situations the Merc lived for, but now his hero was the bane of his existence.

He could have said no, he _should_ have said no, and just might have said no, but then you took the phone and somehow you always seemed to be able to quiet the Merc with a Mouth. All he could manage, when you'd asked him for help, was to feebly nod his head and mutter a quiet 'sure'.

Now here he was, watching you and Cap, back to back, fighting off a hoard of green suited villains. They weren't particularly well trained, the two of you were making quick work of them, allowing plenty of down time for the Merc to stand idly by and watch mournfully.

What had he done to deserve this kind of torture? Ya know, besides all the murder for money and whatnot... He was trying to be a better person dammit, and now he was having homicidal thoughts about America's Hero.

His eyes never left you as you hopped off Cap's shield and vaulted over his head. The Merc turned around just in time to see you drop a Hydra agent with a well placed chop to the side of his neck.

"Focus, Wade. Just because you can come back doesn't mean I wanna see you die." You stuck out your tongue, shoving playfully at his shoulder, before joining the star spangled hero once again.

He groaned internally. Just hearing you say his name was turning him on. That, combined with how casually you touched him, and the naughty thoughts the sight of your tongue caused, were threatening to give him the world's most awkward boner. Pitching a tent in spandex was not going to be easy to hide and a now was definitely not an appropriate time.

It was then that someone else garnered his attention. Apparently Hydra had been working on their own version of the Iron Man suit, and while it was somewhat laughable in comparison to the real thing, fire still hurt.

"I guess flame thrower arms are a thing now, guys. We should probably move!" Deadpool's bullets were richocheting harmlessly off the metal monstrosity, flames roaring closer.

"This way!" Cap yelled, running full speed down the hallway toward a pair of sturdy looking doors.

The two of you followed, barely getting the heavy doors shut behind you before the Iron Man wannabe was banging against them.

"Now what?" You looked around the room.

It wasn't much, more of an antechamber, leading into the heart of the building. The walls and floor were bare concrete, there was no furniture or electronics. The only adornments were two nondescript doors. It was an empty tomb of a room that felt for too small with a large mercenary on one side of you and a super soldier on the other.

"Now we get out of here. Wilson, you ready?" Cap refused to meet your eyes, instead focusing on the red and black mask.

The Merc nodded. Normally he'd have had some witty one liner, but he didn't like the look of growing panic in your eyes.

You looked back and forth between the two. "What's going on? I'm definitely missing something here."

You knew you were here to destroy a Hydra base, you were pretty sure you weren't going to lose any sleep over it either, but there were unspoken words being exchanged between the two men that you weren't privy to. Cap was obviously avoiding the topic, which meant you weren't going to like it one bit.

"Every Hydra base is the same." Cap explained."They all have a hard wired failsafe built in to the foundation of the building."

"They'd rather blow themselves sky high than trade any secrets." Deadpool added, interrupting Steve to make loud explosion noises, flailing his hands in the air.

"And these failsafes, well..." Your fearless leader looked to the mercenary for support.

You were thankful for the military style training you'd receive through SHIELD before joining the Avengers. Without it you'd have currently been a panic ridden mess. Someone needed to tell you what the hell was going on, and fast, before those Iron-Hydras broke through the door.

Deadpool shrugged like it was no big deal. "Their operation is manual. Can't be done by remote."

The full reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. You were leaving a teammate behind to act as a suicide bomber. You knew the stakes, knew what Hydra was capable of, but there had to be some other way. Wade may not have been everyone's favorite but he didn't deserve this!

"No. No fucking way." You shook your head adamantly. "This was the plan all along, Steve?"

You couldn't believe Captain America was willingly sacrificing one of his own. Never before had you doubted his instruction, much less out right refused, but this was too much.

Steve finally met your eyes, a pained expressions clear on his face. "It's for the greater good." He mumbled, knowing it wasn't enough.

Before you could protest Deadpool interrupted, gloved hand encircling your wrist to turn you around to face him.

"Why do you think they call me in? I'm expendable. Nothing can kill me for long." _No matter how hard I wish it_ , was the part he left unsaid.

"I don't care. That doesn't make it right." You stepped closer to the Merc, heart aching at just how little he valued his own life.

He stil hadn't let go of your wrist, relishing in the contact, no matter how brief. There were tears pooling in your beautiful eyes and he hated himself for being the one to put them there, no matter the reason.

He'd did this plenty of times in the past, sacrificing himself with the knowledge he'd always come back. No one needed to risk their own lives when his mattered so little. He might as well finally use his curse to do some good.

It didn't bother him, not really, he got to see his lady Death, and a few blessed hours of peace and quiet, so all in all it wasn't a bad deal. There were worse ways to go, he knew from experience, at least explosions were quick.

But now here you were, arguing with one of America's mightiest heroes, about his well being. He swore his heart grew three sizes and it wasn't even Christmas. Though he knew, once all was said and done, you and Cap would make up, and he'd come back from the dead just as lonely as ever.

"We have to go." Steve insisted, moving closer to the exit as the metal door began to buckle under the weight of the iron suit pounding incessantly against it.

You stepped closer to your hero, bodies almost touching. "You're sure you're coming back?"

Deadpool nodded, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. "Like a bad penny."

Could he dare to believe that you actually cared? Why weren't you just running out of that damn building to save yourself alongside the Super soldier.

"You'd better." You paused a moment, considering the consequences of your future actions, then decided to throw all caution to the wind.

You grabbed the Merc's masked face in both of your hands and pulled him down to you, crushing your mouth against his in a desperate, albeit brief, kiss.

You let Cap drag you to the door as the Merc's mouth broke out in a shit eating grin.

"You totally want me!" It wasn't a question, but a statement. He couldn't believe it. "Is it my birthday? It must be my birthday."

"I'll give you your present later." You winked at the jolly Merc before Cap pulled you free and the door closed behind you with a finality you couldn't bear.

Deadpool turned to the crumbling door, ready to throw it open and make a run for it. He needed to get to that cliche big red button before those Hydra losers could take him down. Shouldn't be too hard really, even with the Iron Man cosplayer among them, but for the first time in a long time he didn't want to die.

He actually had something to _live_ for.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any future Deadpool/Reader prompts welcome. (So long as I feel I can write any extra characters well enough) :)


	8. Inked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You lose a bet and end up with the Merc tattooed on your arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this was written for Thebeastinsideusall. I missed a few of the pieces in your prompt but let me know what you think! 
> 
> I may rewrite this at some point or even expand upon the idea.

It was summer in New York, during one of the worst heat waves in the city's history, and you were pretty sure you knew exactly how those poor souls in the ninth circle of Hell were feeling.

Everyone was gathered around the Avengers' indoor swimming pool, sipping cool, fruity drinks that Tony made by the pitcher full.

You were late to the gathering, having spent the last twenty minutes hemming and hawing about whether you should even bothering putting a bathing suit on.

The type of suit you normally wore was a revealing two piece which left little to the imagination, being tall and thin, with curves in all the right places, no one complained, but now you had something to hide. Wearing a t-shirt over the bikini would be too obvious, making the others question what you were covering. Going the 'just tanning' route, leaving you able to at least wear shorts and a tee without question, would be equally ridiculous because 1; the pool was indoors, and 2; you were a vampire. While the sun wouldn't kill you - seriously, who comes up with that stuff? - you were naturally a shade of white most often found on corpses, which didn't change no matter how long you were out in the sun.

Long story short, it didn't really matter how you approached today, you were going to be laughed out of the pool regardless. Clint and Tony would be the merciless, you knew from prior experience, but they meant it all in fun and honestly, you didn't mind. They were your surrogate siblings and weren't brothers supposed to tease?

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, having opted for the little teal bikini that tied at your hips, hoping the minimal material would distract the eye from your new tattoo, but knowing it wouldn't be enough.

The fresh, though already healed, ink you'd received last night had been the result of a lost bet. How the hell you'd lost when you had cheated was beyond you.

It was still hard to believe Deadpool had beaten you at the gun range. Sure, he was once the world's top contract killer, but being a vampire, your mind was open farther than the average human being, giving you basic psychic abilities, like telekinesis. If the bullet was veering off course all you had to do was give it a little mental nudge and it would hit true, every time.

The bet had been your idea while practicing in the Tower's underground shooting range. If you got the most kill shots in thirty seconds you won, and Wade would finally take that damn mask of his off. If he won, you'd have to don a mask of your own, on your arm, in the form of a tattoo.

You'd willingly accepted the terms, sure you couldn't lose, and far too eager to see the Merc's naked face.

The game had ended with you in the artists chair, having lost by three, which was absurd. You'd wanted a rematch, sure the Merc had also been cheating, but he'd refused. Now here you were, Deadpool's mask covering the majority of your bicep.

You sighed. At least it was a nice piece, artsy, with a watercolor look about it.

You were glad you'd forgone a cover up when you heard Wade's booming voice coming from the pool. He might have won the bet but you still had your pride, and you were going to walk into that group like nothing bothered you.

"Hey, Princess!" The Merc was sprawled out on a lawn chair, wearing his full spandex suit, minus the weapons. "Thought maybe you'd be a little chilly today. Maybe wear long sleeves or something."

You flashed a smug smile, snarking back. "Unlike you, I don't have anything to hide."

"Oohh, shots fired!" Clint was clearly amused.

"Don't mind him, sweetheart. You look ravishing as always." Stark was quick to leave his post behind the bar, bringing you a large, frosty pink concoction.

"Thank you, Tony." You flirtatiously ran your fingers along his bare chest, skirting over the glowing arc reactor.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw the Merc's body tense in anger and your smile may have gotten a little wider.

That was when the archer saw your tattoo, you knew because he started laughing so hard he nearly fell off his bar stool. He was pointing, unable to speak, tears brimming in his eyes.

Natasha got out of the water, leaving Bruce behind, as she came in for a closer look. "Wow." Was all she said, but a small smile played on her red lips.

Steve looked up from his book, cringing almost imperceptiblly. "Aren't those things permanent?" His tone was scolding, like a father who had already told you no, but you'd run off to do it anyway.

Tony snorted. "Drunk in Vegas or lose a bet? Or lose a drunk bet in Vegas?" He asked, like it was an everyday occurrence. "I've done all three. Laser removal is pricy and painful but I know a guy who does a great job if you want his number."

You shrugged. You honestly hadn't even though of laser removal. "If it annoys me I can just flay the skin, it'll grow back flawless like before."

The billionaire cringed. "Okay, laser isn't that painful... "

"Oh, no! No removal of any kind. She agreed to keep it for a week!" Deadpool leapt from his seat, coming to stand on your tattooed side, admiring the piece. The grin on his face was evident even under the mask.

"The whole flaying thing is pretty hot though." He leaned forward to whisper in your ear, trailing small kisses down your neck. "You're so badass."

"Must be your number one fan. I haven't seen anyone else with a Deadpool tat." Clint had stopped laugh, righting himself on the stool, but was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Maybe you should join me, we could start a club." You sassed.

You didn't, however, doubt that you were, in fact, his number one fan. Over the last few months since he'd starting doing missions with you and the Avengers you'd fallen hard for the Merc.

It was the first time in your long, lonely life you'd met a human without an expiration date. He was essentially immortal like yourself, his healing factor even being a bit stronger. But that wasn't the reason you'd fallen for him, it was only the reason for your hope of a future. He was everything you wanted and everything you needed.

Things has started out simple enough as a casual, friends with benefits sort of agreement, but had quickly taken a turn neither of you expected.

Deadpool was still waiting to wake up.

Hawkeye seemed to think over the offer. "Thanks, but you know if I'm getting a tattoo it's gonna be for Cap." He was giving the Super soldier dreamy eyes, earning himself a sigh.

You laughed. "I do have a whole other arm, I could be your second biggest fan, Cap!"

Deadpool looked insulted, arm going possessivly around your shoulders. You weren't sure if it was because he thought himself to be Captain America's number one fan, or because you were discussing someone else's mark on your body.

"Do I have to pee on you to mark my territory or something?" The Merc looked far too serious.

You supposed it was the latter then, and you were flattered, even if it was a little disgusting.

After years of hiding you weren't the most emotionally available person, so instead of admitting your feelings, you grabbed the larger man around the waist and tossed him effortlessly into the deep end of the nearby pool.

It really wasn't possible for the Merc's spandex to cling any tighter to his skin, but you knew it would be uncomfortable nonetheless.

You smiled ruthlessly at his indignant screech.

"I thought you loved me?" He pouted, treading water. "I mean, you do have my face tattooed on your body. If that doesn't say love, I don't know what does."

Clint snorted a laugh as you launched yourself into the pool, pulling the water logged Merc back under.

All is fair in love and war, and you thought this might just count as both.

You wrestled him in the water, wrapping your long legs around his waist. He fought to keep the two of you afloat, adjusting to your additional weight, giving you ample time to attack.

With super human speed you grabbed the neck of the red and black mask and ripped it off Wade's head. Before he could argue, or maybe try to drown you for not getting permission, you had covered his mouth with yours.

It took him a few seconds to respond, too shocked to think clearly, but when he did it was heated and passionate.

You pulled away, gasping for breath as his tongue explored every inch of your mouth, earning identifal groans from all your teammates.

"See, this isn't so bad." You smirked, finger tips caressing the criss crossing scars on his bald head.

He'd been immediately angered by the violation, but if being maskless meant receiving kisses like that, he figured it was a fair trade.

"Okay, I think Steve gets the hint after that display of tonsil hockey. You better not pee in my fucking pool, Wilson." Stark was behind the bar again, downing another drink.

"I think we're done here anyway. Whadya say, babe? Your room or Tony's?" He set you gently on the edge of the pool, then pulled himself up beside you, soaked spandex leaving a puddle around his feet.

"I swear to God if I find you two in my room... "

Tony's threat went unheard. The heated and possessive way Wade was looking at your inked brand was making your stomach flutter.

You thought you just might keep the tattoo, and hoped it wasn't the only thing that would last forever.

 

 

 


	9. Dear Avengers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: some mentions of rape (the whole Typhoid Mary thing) she's back in this chapter at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter I decided to combine two promots I got (from Lacey and rosepetaled) hope you guys like it ok. I just can't write without a little angst and self doubt on Wade's part. Poor guy... :)

Wade Wilson was great at multitasking, if he did say so himself, but he was currently focused with a single minded determination, the likes of which he normally saved for carrying out hits, to try to win your heart.

"Hey, Captain!" Deadpool burst in, uninvited, to the exercise room of the Avengers' Tower. "I need some advice from a desirable hero like yourself."

Steve gave the bag one last punch, narrowly avoiding knocking the sand right out of it, and took off his gloves. "What is it, Wilson?" He asked skeptically.

Deadpool sprawled out on the weight bench on his side, elbow bent, masked chin resting in his hand. He sighed thoughtfully. "I'm in love, Cap!" He swooned. "And I need help."

Steve smiled warmly. "Well, son, I don't know if I'm the best one to ask for dating tips." He began unwrapping his hands, sitting on the bench across from the anti-hero.

"But you're Captain _freakin_ ' America!" Wade had to admit, even after all this time, he was still a little star struck by his childhood idol.

"Which doesn't leave me a lot of time for dating, and before the serum women didn't look twice."

"I know that feeling. I mean sure, I'm sexy as hell in this spandex but out of the suit... total barf-fest!" The Merc tried to sound nonchalant but Steve could hear the pain in his words.

He wanted to comfort the man before him, but he had to choose his words carefully. He was certifiably insane, and his morals were lax, but he did have a few good qualities. Would they be enough to win the affections of whoever it was the Merc was after? He didn't know, but he did know the future was not guaranteed, and you had to embrace today.

The Hero told the mercenary as much, relaying the story of his best girl, and the dance he still regretted missing to this day, even if he'd done what he'd had to do.

Deadpool was riveted, hanging on Cap's every word. He swore when the story was over he wasn't crying. He just had something in his eye... that got through the mask... that was it. Yeah.

He sniffled. "Shit, Cap. It was sad in the movie but hearing you tell it is even worse!"

Steve was used to the mercenary's off the wall ramblings, so he ignored them and continued. "What I'm trying to tell you, Wade, is that you never know what's in store for you tomorrow. So make today count."

Deadpool burst out of his seat, wrapping muscular arms around the soldier in a strong hug that left him thankful for the serum so he wouldn't have bruises to explain.

"Thanks, Cap! You're the best of the best." With that, the Merc rushed out of the room in a red and black blur that left the Super soldier a little dizzy.

 

     *      *      *

 

"Hey, short stuff." Deadpool found you sitting at the kitchen bar, sipping coffee with Hawkeye.

"Legolas." He greeted, earning a soundless nod.

"Hey, Wade." You couldn't help it as a smile spread across your face, despite the early hour and the intruders unparalleled enthusiasm.

You were surrounded by gorgeous gods, billionaires, and super soldiers, but the unusual mercenary always managed to brighten your day.

The others warned you away, even those who actually liked the Merc made it clear he wasn't exactly relationship material. They said he was unstable at best, but if they knew more of your history you thought they just might say the same about you.

He sprawled along the counter top, masked face inches from yours. "How's my favorite pint-sized Avenger this fine morning?"

"Better now." You leaned forward, giving the Merc a loud, smacking kiss on the forehead.

Deadpool stopped talking mid sentence, surprised by the display of affection. It wasn't often people willingly touched him.

He thought he just might have a chance after all.

Clint snorted, burying his face in the coffee pot he used in lieu of a mug. He thoroughly enjoyed the way you could render the mouthy Merc speechless like no other.

"Why are you here at this ungodly hour?" The archer grumbled, taking pity on his sort-of friend.

"Why, to see your 'fun-sized' partner of course." Wade winked at you, back to his old self after a quick recovery.

You chuckled. As a half blood fae you couldn't help being vertically challenged, just barely over five feet tall, making you the shortest member of the team. You were more than used to all the height jokes, even making them yourself.

"You could have picked a better time, when I wasn't all bed head and coffee breath." You ran fingers through your hair self consciously. Yup, it was a mess.

You hated him seeing you like this, especially seeing as he seemed to actually be clean. His suit showed no stains or bullet holes, which was quite unusual. You thought he might have even tossed out the old burritos stuffed in one of his various pouches because you no longer smelled stale Mexican cuisine.

Deadpool scoffed, speaking before he had time to think about what he was going to say, like usual. "You're beautiful any time of day."

Your smile brightened the damn room, he'd swear it. "You're sweet."

The Merc wouldn't make eye contact. Looking everywhere but at you he mumbled, "Don't tell anyone, it'll ruin my rep."

Clint had never seen the man so flustered and it was absolutely hilarious. _Definitely worth being awake this early_ , he thought to himself as he readied the coffee maker to provide more of the life giving brew.

"Like that time you saved those puppies from the house fire?" You were grinning broadly, fondly remembering the day the big bad mercenary had received third degree burns over much of his body to save two of the cutest beagle pups you'd ever seen.

You'd been smitten ever since.

You were frequently able to witness a side of him that others rarely noticed. Under the cocky, crazy facade was a man who truly did care, about others if not about himself. He often did the right thing, not just whatever would net him the biggest payout, and almost never received any credit.

Regardless of what the city thought, he was a hero to you.

"Weshouldgooutsometime!" The mercenary blurted, mentally chiding himself on his complete and utter lack of charm. So much for that reputation he'd been worried about.

Clint couldn't help it this time, he choked out a laugh before turning it into a suspicious cough.

You couldn't believe it. After months of blatant flirting he'd finally had the courage to ask. It was about damn time.

He had raised his gloved hands to cover his already masked face. "Yeah, that's the way to do it. Win her right over acting like an idiot." He mumbled to himself, apparently unaware it was aloud.

Your finger curled around his raised forearm to get his attention. "Well, right now I have to go see Tony about adding some tech to my super suit, so how about tonight? Around eight?"

He peeked between his fingers, white eyes barely visible. You were saying yes!? He couldn't believe it! He answered with a simple nod of his red and black head, afraid to speak. He didn't want his mouth to ruin things like it so often did.

You set your mug in the sink, bidding the boys farewell. Before leaving you stopped in the doorway, turning back to address a still silent Deadpool.

"We can do whatever you want, but no super suit, and that means the mask too." Before he could protest you sauntered off, feeling especially giddy as you made your way to the labs.

He waited until you were out of earshot. "Barton! What the fuck am I gonna do?"

The Merc was frantic, adding to the archer's amusement. "You're the one who asked her out. How am I supposed to know? That was real smooth by the way." He was already sipping on the next pot of scalding coffee, burning his tongue with little care.

Deadpool was pacing the length of the kitchen and back, eyes on Clint, like he held the key to the universe.

"My face. She can't see my face!" He stopped, moving forward to shake the hawk in desperation. "I mean, she's seen my crazy and still said yes. I've gotta be on thin ice with that alone."

"Dude, she was raised by the Unseelie. I don't think your face is going to bother her." Clint shuddered. He'd never had the misfortune to meet an Unseelie faerie face to face but he'd heard the stories, some from you, and they were never pleasant.

Wade frowned, unconvinced. You were the only faerie he knew of, besides Tinkerbell, and you were both super hot.

"Besides," Clint continued. "I don't have the best track record with women. You should ask Stark, he at least knows all the things not to do."

The archer laughed at his own joke, but Deadpool nodded seriously. He had a point. Iron Man had been with obscene amounts of women, though never for very long. Maybe if he followed Stark's advice on how to win you over, then did the exact opposite on how the billionaire suggested to actually keep you, he'd be alright.

"Thanks, Hawkguy." He roughly slapped Clint on the shoulder, making the smallest amount of black liquid run over the edge.

"Sure, thing." He mumbled, mourning the loss of his life's blood.

 

     *      *      *

 

Deadpool loitered outside the labs, waiting for your discussion with the egotistical genius to be over and you to be long gone, before barging in.

"Banner. Tin Man." He nodded in acknowledgement.

"How the hell do you keep getting in here? You shouldn't be in here. Jarvis, why didn't you tell me we had an intruder?" Tony closed out his virtual computer software and stood, glaring at the taller man.

"He has Captain Rogers' authorization, sir." Came the AI's cultured English accent, sounding slightly amused.

"Star spangled pain in my ass." Tony mumbled. "Sometimes I just want to punch him in those perfect teeth."

"Lover's quarrel? The honeymoon's over already? I hate to get in the middle..." Deadpool feigned alarm, momentarily forgetting what he'd come here for.

Bruce quickly turned away from the two men, pretending to study the computer screen to hide his grin at the Merc's taunting.

"I hear Stony fanfic is very popular these days. Personally, I'm a Stucky kind of guy, but to each their own." Deadpool shrugged.

"What the fuck are --" Tony sat back down at his desk, running dirty hands through his already messy hair. "No, I don't even want to know. Why are you bothering me, Wilson? It better be good."

With a weary sigh the mercenary pulled over an empty stool, sitting closer than the genius would have liked.

"I got a date with (y/n) tonight and I need advice!"

Bruce nearly choked on own saliva at that but kept silent, wanting to hear Tony's reply.

"You what? You've got to be kidding... Our (y/n)?" He was incredulous.

Deadpool nodded eagerly. "Yes! Tonight! And she wants me mask-less. I need all the help I can get!"

Tony snorted. He needed help alright, like new face altogether. Did their newest teammate know what she was getting herself into? You were a pretty little thing, if not for Pepper he'd have gone after you himself, but a half crazy, wholly fugly killer like Deadpool? Surely he couldn't stand a chance!

He wanted to tell Wilson as much, but Cap was constantly harping on him about being more apathetic, which he didn't really think should apply to people who kept breaking into his tower, but he knew he'd hear about it later regardless.

Was Stony what he thought it was?

Anyway, "I don't really know what you tell you." Stark said, as gently as he could muster.

The Merc groaned loudly in defeat, his head thumping against the table top. "If NYC's top playboy can't help me I'm fucked. Or not fucked, really, which is the problem. Do you know how long it's been, Stark? A long time let me tell you and --"

"Stop." The aforementioned playboy begged, not needing, or wanting, any details on the antihero's love life, or lack thereof.

Bruce, kind as always, put down his notebook. "Listen, Wade." He spoke softly, drawing the big man's attention. "She knows you as well as the rest of us by now, certainly well enough to know what she agreed to, so if she already said yes, just be yourself. That's what she'd want."

Tony was looking at his 'science bro' with shocked fascination.

"I'm a fucking monster, Hulky. Why would she want this at all?" He asked, dejected, cheek still pressed against the cold metal surface.

Banner gave him a small smile. "Trust me, even monster's like us deserve love." With that, he turned back to his project, thinking fondly of a certain red haired beauty.

Deadpool and Iron Man turned to each other, mirror looks of surprise painting both their faces.

"Well, shit." Wade stood. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it." He spoke to the back of Banner's lab coat, earning a quick wave of dismissal.

He had a date to prepare for.

 

     *      *      *

 

"Oh. Em. Gee. What the fuck am I doing? This is insane, even for me. I need to get out of here." Deadpool had just entered the Avengers' lobby, feeling incredibly exposed in civilian clothing.

He was about to turn tail and run like the coward he was, before being stopped by a fiery red head not a whole lot taller than you.

Her well manicure hand was pressed firmly to his hoodie covered chest. "Oh no you don't. (y/n) sent me down here to keep you from running off until she was ready."

The assassin was giving a steely look that left him with the sudden, overpowering urge to pee. He may not be the smartest man in the tower, but he knew better than to cross the Black Widow.

"Sure thing. I mean, ya know, I wasn't going anywhere anyway." She cocked one perfect eyebrow at the Merc's denial. "I'll just wait right here, quietly."

Her voice was even, steady. "I don't know what she sees in you, but she's one of my best friends. Hurt her and I'll find a way to end you." She could have been commenting on the weather but she was talking murder, and he didn't doubt her statement for a second.

He nodded violently, the hood covering his baseball cap sliding back slightly, giving Natasha a glimpse of the ruined flesh beneath. He saw no change in her blank expression.

It was then that the elevator dinged and you hurried out, smiling radiantly at two of your favorite people.

"Tried to run, didn't he, Nat?" You smirked.

The Merc saw her give a genuine smile for the first time ever and it terrified him just as much as her steel gaze of death.

"You were right." She gave you a quick hug. "Have fun, and be safe." She said the last bit with another glare at Deadpool, for good measure, before disappearing up the emergency exit stairwell.

"I'll probably have nightmares." He said, completely serious.

"She's a big softy, I swear. Just like you." You laughed, linking arms with your date, peering up at his well hidden, but naked, face. "You're not wearing the mask, I'm surprised."

He was waiting for a reaction of disgust, for you to back away, rethinking the whole 'date' idea, but you only smiled.

He could feel the warmth of that smile on his soul like the summer sun on his skin. It was a dangerous thing, the most powerful of drugs, and even if he didn't deserve it, he knew he'd do damn near anything to keep that feeling from slipping away.

 

     *      *      *

 

Because life has a way of screwing you over just when things are getting good, Deadpool found himself in the worst sort of predicament a few short weeks after the two of you finally became an item.

You even been intimate, multiple times, which he still had a hard time wrapping his head around. Surely you could do better, you were way out of his league, but he was enjoying every goddamn second of it.

Until he ended up here, wherever that was, with this treacherous whore.

"Don't worry, baby. She can have what's left of you." His all too familiar captor trailed the razor sharp tip of her knife along his jaw, leaving a thin line of blood in its wake.

"Fuck you." The Merc spat, blood and teeth, painting her two toned face red.

"Been there, done that." She leered, dredging up the memories he was trying so hard to keep at bay.

Deadpool wasn't even sure how it happened. One minute he'd been walking to his favorite taco truck and the next he woke up in Mary's hovel, naked, and chained to the wall like a fucking animal.

He didn't know how long he'd been gone, could have been hours, could have been days, but he was pretty sure he was late for your date. That left him with mixed feelings about whether or not he wanted you to come looking for him. If you did, and this schizophrenic bitch hurt you, he didn't know what he'd do.

"I just want you to know, this isn't personal." Mary purred, her black lacquered nails scraping along his scarred chest. "You seem to have a way of pissing people off. Wealthy people, who can pay to have someone else do their dirty work."

She was smiling like the true psychopath she was when she plunged the knife deep into the Merc's chest, narrowly missing his heart, to puncture a lung.

"I'm going to kill you this time. I mean it." He promised, trying not to choke on the blood bubbling up his throat.

Her insane laughter was cut short when, seemingly out of thin air, you appeared before her.

Deadpool struggled against the chains like never before, they bit into his wrists and ankles, cutting deep enough to draw blood but he felt nothing, his worry for you overpowering all else.

There was a look on your face he'd never seen before, it was cruel and cold and utterly terrifying. Your eyes had become an otherworldly, swirling gold. You barely looked human, but then again, you really weren't.

With a smile to match Mary's, the small woman he thought he needed to protect demonstrated how very wrong he was.

"Who the hell are you?" She wasn't worried, she was angry at being interrupted.

"It doesn't matter who I am." You stepped forward, invading her personal space with careless abandon. "It only matters what I'm going to do to you."

"And what is that?" Mary looked down at you, obviously unimpressed.

It was okay, you were used to people underestimating you and it always worked to your advantage.

"I'm going to kill you, and trust me, it's personal." You quipped.

Before Mary could retort, you delivered two brutal punches in rapid succession that brought the other woman to her knees. Once she was on the floor you placed your small hands on her head, one on either side, and gave a sharp twist, resulting in a loud crack and a limp body.

"Holy fucking shit." Was Wade's eloquent response as you dropped Mary's lifeless body to the dirty floor. "I guess big things do come in small packages!"

He wasn't afraid of you, he knew he need not be, but he did have to admit he was just a teeny bit turned on. Mary was one tough woman, and you'd dispatched her with minimal effort. He was shocked and proud.

His brown eyes were wide as he watched you approach, stepping over the corpse like you would litter in the street, paying it no mind other than to not get your shoes dirty.

Your face softened, eyes returning to normal, as your checked your lover, worrying over his now healed wounds and releasing the restraints.

"I'd kill her again if I could." You said mater of factly. Maybe it was wrong, but you felt no remorse. Was it the fae blood? Or were you just a horrible person? You didn't know, nor care.

"I'd let you." The Merc was smiling, despite everything. "You were totally badass. It was pretty hot, short stuff, ain't gonna lie."

You grinned. "Let's not tell the Avengers about this, huh?"

"Maybe you're gonna have to keep my mouth busy so I don't go around blabbing about how awesome my lady is." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

You smiled. You were going to get your Merc home and make him forget every awful memory that bitch had left him with.

 


	10. Tight Squeeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're going to make sure you and Wade get out alive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone for the amazing comments I've gotten and apologize for not updating in so long!! Hopefully this little chapter will get me back into writing and I'll post more often! 
> 
> Thanks for reading. Comments and prompts/suggestions always welcome. 
> 
> Xx

Deadpool had never considered himself to be a lucky man. His life had been shit before Weapon X and it only got worse after. 

Sure, he had pretty sick regenerative abilities that, for all intents and purposes, left him basically immortal, but what good was everlasting life when the only thing you craved was death? 

Well, alright, death and spicy Mexican cuisine, but he was in no position to get a taco, so death it was. 

If he could save your life in the process then it would be completely worth the pain of regenerating. Meeting you had been the one bright spot of good luck in his life, even if he'd never tell you as much. 

"Alright, sweetheart. I'm gonna distract these assholes, you make a run for it." Deadpool was currently weaponless, which he didn't like at all, he felt naked (and not in a good way), but he'd damn sure be able to take out enough of these Hydra idiots to allow you escape. 

Hell, most of the agents weren't even trained in hand to hand combat, that much had been obvious on your way into the compound. If he kept the sarcastic quips to a minimum and actually focused on the fight he might not even die. Growing back a limb or two wouldn't be so bad, but death granted him a reprieve, albeit brief, from his every day miserable existence. 

"What?" You were startled out of your thoughts, busy trying to come up with an escape plan.

Deadpool sacrificing himself was not going to be the plan. 

"What're you hearing voices now? You got that same look on your face I used to get." Deadpool was mildly concerned. 

His crazy wasn't contagious, was it? 

"Sorry, it just took me a moment to process the stupidity of your plan." You hissed. 

The Merc was taken aback by your sudden hostility. "Listen, lady, I'm trying to do the right thing and save that sexy ass of yours, okay? So just do what I say when I say it."

You couldn't believe your ears. You hadn't pegged Deadpool for the kind of guy to use that macho bullshit. 

You had been scared, surrounded as you were by the enemy, but now you were pissed. 

"We're partners in this mission, Cap said so, which means we have to agree on a course of action. You can't just tell me what to do." Your voice started out as a harsh whisper but had steadily risen. 

Deadpool shushed you, hoping the green suited dumbasses hadn't heard. 

Usually he loved your attitude, cheering you on when you out sassed the likes of Tony Stark, but now was not the time to be stubborn. Now was the time to save your life whether you liked it or not. 

"And partners protect each other." Deadpool moved towards the door of the utility closet that had become your hiding place. 

Moving fast, you spun your partner around with a hand on his shoulder, shoving him against the wall, a little harder than necessary, before his hand could reach the doorknob. 

Before he could protest, and he was about to protest - with very colorful language too - you pointed toward a large air vent in the ceiling. 

The look you gave him was scathing. It told him exactly how stupid he was and how superior you were. If he wasn't already so over the moon for you, and if you didn't look so goddamn sexy when you were mad, he might have been offended. 

You may have been hot and angry, but you were also right. Quietly escaping was probably a better plan than going out in a bloody battle to the death. 

But where was the fun in a quiet escape? 

Deadpool was weighing his options. If he followed you he was going to miss out on being the hero, and on his few minute interlude with his main squeeze Death. 

Even through the mask you knew what that look on his face meant and you were having none of it. 

So, you did the first thing that came to mind and stopped your boot heel down on the top of his foot. Hard. 

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" He cried out louder than he should have given the current circumstances, but dammit that hurt! 

You stifled a laugh, watching the muscular mercury hop comically around the large closet, holding on to his injured foot. 

"I know what you were thinking, and I'm not going to allow it." Your arms were crossed haughtily over your chest. 

Deadpool frowned, no longer thinking about the pain in his quickly healing foot fracture. 

Why did you care anyway? No one cared what the mercenary did as long as he wasn't hurting innocents. Hurting himself had always been ignored, or even preferred, by most of the other heroes. 

But you weren't like them, never had been, and that's what had attracted him to you in the first place, like an ugly moth to a flame.

He knew in the end he'd get burned. He always did. 

"We're partners in this mission, which means you can't tell me what to do." He reiterated your earlier speech in the tone of a bratty child. 

The mercenary turned hero was infuriating. He had a way of pissing you off like no one else and at the same time was one of the most caring, self-sacrificing people you'd ever met. You couldn't help but feel an attraction to him, in spite on everything. 

"Fine, partner." You sneered through gritted teeth. You wanted to punch him in the face, then stick your tongue down his throat. Feelings were complicated. "Either we go through that door together or we go into the vents together." 

The way you said together made it sound like a curse, but hope bubbled up in Deadpool's heart. Or maybe it was indigestion? It was hard to tell when you ate at Taco Bell so often...

Either way it didn't really matter. He might not care about his life but he wasn't willing to risk yours, and he knew your stubborn ass would do exactly what you said and follow him out the door and into the sea of goons. So he was going to have to go along with your plan. 

"Fine. Vent." He said curtly. 

"After you." You gestured grandly toward said vent with a smug smile. 

You weren't stupid. He wasn't going to get the chance to get you in the vent then carry out his suicide mission anyway. 

Deadpool grumbled, something about chivalry being dead, as he dragged over a small step ladder, but dutifully climbed up and pulled the vent shield away from the wall. 

"This is gonna be a tighter squeeze than the time-"

"Less talking more squeezing!" You snapped. 

The enemy voices were growing louder. It was only a matter of time before they found your hiding spot. 

The large mercenary shut his mouth and began the slow crawl through the metal vent system. He paused to make sure you had gotten in safely, then continue on. 

"I'd love to be in a tight, confined space of yours but this wasn't what I had in mind." Deadpool whispered with a grin. 

You let out a small laugh despite yourself. The merc was sometimes infuriating and always crude, but he had a way of making you smile, even in the worst of circumstances. 

"Get out of his one and maybe I'll let you explore another." You spoke before thinking, now probably wasn't the best time to let the hero know you wanted to ride him like a pony. 

Deadpool, in disbelief, turned around so quickly to face you that he smashed his head into the vent's wall. 

He cursed loudly as you giggled, taking the pain as a sign from the powers that be that he should wait until a safer time to mull over what you'd just said to him. 

Maybe he'd been hearing things, that had certainly happened to him before, or you were just trying to get him to move faster and save your own ass. Yeah, that last thing was probably it. Someone like you couldn't possibly be interested in someone like him, could you? 

He picked up his pace, moving his hulking frame along through the tight space as quickly as he could. 

You were starting to wonder if you'd broken the man, never had he remained silent this long, when he stopped suddenly. 

"There it is, the room we entered through. Looks empty, I'll drop in a make sure, then you follow and we get the hell out of here?" 

He looked to you for approval, when you nodded he sprang into action, contorting himself enough to get the leverage he needed to kick the vent cover off. 

In one fluid motion he slid through the opening and landed gracefully in a defensive crouch on the floor below. You took a moment to admire his movements, watching as the taunt muscle rippled beneath the spandex. 

You were going to have to talk to Steve when you got back to the tower. This partnering might not be a good Idea, you were having a hard time concentrating. 

"Okay." He motioned for you to follow. 

You had planned to drop much the same as he did, but he caught you mid air, strong arms wrapping protectively around your waist. 

You slowly slid down his hard body until your feet touched the floor, trying not to think about how it turned you on. 

"We should probably get back to the quinjet." Deadpool's voice was rougher than usual, and his large hands were gripping your hips tightly, pressing your body to his. 

"Mmm... Yeah." You cleared your throat quietly, not liking the breathy tone of your voice. You were far more effected by the merc than you wanted to admit. 

He smiled, face inches from yours. "You want me soooo bad!!!" 

You sighed, the mood ruined, and pushed him away playfully. "You're impossible, Wade. Let's go." 

"You didn't sayyyy nooooo." He sing-songed as he followed you stealthily out of the underground facility. 

"Don't make me regret it." 

You smiled when he laughed.


	11. The Hitman Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kill you. He can't kill. He loves you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this story saved to my phone for months, never sure how to advance it... So I'm just gonna post it as is and make it a little open ended ficlet. Oohh the mystery. Lol.

Deadpool sat there alone, in a vacant apartment, wondering what he'd ever done to end up so royally screwed...

Okay, sure, he had been a mercenary for a hell of a long time now, and killed who knew how many people - he'd lost track a long time ago to be honest - so maybe he did deserve his current situation.

He sighed pitifully, watching you once again through his night vision binoculars. 

He'd been holed up in this empty apartment, in the building across from yours, for the better part of a week now. What had started out as an easy job, fast money, had turned into something of an obsession. 

The job hadn't been anything out of the ordinary. Your typical angry husband who'd rather have his wife killed than pay her off in a divorce. That reasoning has never made sense to the mercenary, but he wasn't there to judge, he was there to get paid, and offing some guys young wife sounded like an easy $300,000. 

It had been easy, stake out your place, make sure no innocent bystanders were coming or going - he didn't kill for free if he didn't have to after all - then take you out, probably with his sniper rifle from the very place he sat now. 

Such a simple plan, that was, until he got a better look at your face. 

You had obviously changed your name, so that hadn't rung any bells, and the photo your husband supplied hadn't been the best quality, allowing the different hair style/color and years of aging to make you unrecognizable. It was the smile that gave you away, even from such a distance. You were looking at your phone, reading a text maybe, when that small smile that crinkled the corners of your sparkling eyes, played across your lips and he knew.

Not that he'd ever really forgotten. He didn't think it was possible to forget someone he'd loved whole heartedly, not even with his addled brain. 

He'd thought about you often enough over the years, but never expected to see you again. 

And now here he was, wondering what kind of fucked up universe allowed a man to take a contract on a woman he was obviously still in love with? 

He threw the binoculars hard against the nearby wall but it did nothing to alleviate his anger. 

He wouldn't do it, couldn't do it, but he knew someone else would. Someone's whose day you hadn't brightened with that warm, understanding smile. That's why he was still on his stake out, knowing sooner, rather than later, someone would come to finish the job he had started. 

It was then that man came into view, he walked slowly down the street toward your building, hands crammed in his pockets, hood up, head down. If he didn't scream 'sketchy motherfucker' then Deadpool didn't know who would. 

He scrambled quickly across the room to his discarded binoculars for a better look. Sure enough he knew the man. He frequented the Hellhouse, same as all mercenaries and hit men. 

Fuck. 

Deadpool, shifting his view to your lit apartment, picked up his cell phone, dialing the number your husband had given him. 

He watched you regard the phone in your hand curiously, no doubt wondering who would be calling from an unknown number at such a late hour. 

Not sure if you would answer, Deadpool tossed the binoculars aside and headed for the door after hastily sheathing his katanas. 

"Hello?" Your voice was suddenly in his ear. 

His mouth went dry. Damn it. Now was no time to be nervous, he had to get you out of there. 

"This is gonna sound fucked up, but you have to trust me. Get away from your door, now, someone is coming. Go into the bedroom and stay there. I'm on my way."

"What is this? Your idea of a joke, dickhead?" 

He liked your fire, no doubt about it, but now was not the time. "No joke. Joe took out a hit on your life. Someone is coming to collect." 

You paused, obviously thinking about the information you'd just received. Was your estranged husband capable of such a thing? Of course not! But, then again, you hadn't thought he would turn out to be an angry drunk either and that had happened. 

Before you could reply a soft knock sounded at your door and everything suddenly seemed too real. 

You darted into the bedroom, closing the door softly behind you before whispering a nervous "hurry" into the phone and hanging up. 

You were scared now, and rightly so, which kept you from wondering just how this stranger knew someone was after you at this very moment, or how they knew your bedroom was the furthest room from your front door. 

Another knock sounded, this one a little louder, startling you into action. 

You looked around your room for something to use as a weapon. What if the stranger didn't show? You weren't going down without a fight. 

As your eyes flicked over the room you were really starting to the stranger showed or you were going to be in trouble. Nothing in your bedroom was going to double as a weapon. 

Certainly nothing in your bedside table, you mused, despite the dire situation. 

Quiet clangs and scrapes could be heard from the other room, signaling the lock being picked. You backed away from the door when a loud crash rang through your apartment. Apparently subtlety had given way to desperation and your door had been kicked in? 

The stranger's familiar, raspy voice could be heard, after another voice's mumbled taunt. 

"Soft? I'll show you who's gone soft, dickbag." Deadpool growled, shoving the muzzle of his pistol against the killer's skull before pulling the trigger. 

He felt no remorse over killing a colleague, but as he approached the bedroom he worried how you would react. He didn't want to scare you any more than he had to. He was already terrified how you'd react to him. 

"Sweetheart, the coast is clear, I'm coming in."

"Deadpool?" You asked incredulously, unable to believe you eyes. 

You hasn't seen the mercenary in years, not since he'd left abruptly for a job and never returned. 

"Long time, no see." He winked behind the mask. "Pack a bag, we gotta get out of here. It will take a little while for them to realize that asshole isn't coming back, but sooner we're gone the better."

Your surprise quickly gave way to anger. He'd walked out of your life without so much of a goodbye and now expected you to take direction without question?

"What the fuck is going on, Wade? I don't see you for years and now someone is trying to kill me and here you are?"

You were pissed, he knew, but he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face. He hadn't realized how much he missed you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Any kudos, comments, suggestions, (constructive) criticisms are welcome. 
> 
> Xo


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